


Dom down the Hall

by Polly_Phemus (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Anal Fingering, Ass Play, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Chastity Device, Come Eating, Come Marking, Comeplay, Commitment, Corporal Punishment, Courtship, Dildos, Dom Jensen, Dom/sub, Dominance, F/M, Kissing, Leashes, M/M, Masochism, Massage, Masturbation, Meet-Cute, Negotiations, Orgasm Denial, Pain Management, Pinching, Possessive Behavior, Sadism, Sexual Histories, Spit Kink, Sub Jared, Submission, Topping from the Bottom, Worldbuilding, self-care, sexual fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 05:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Polly_Phemus
Summary: Jared needs some discipline and turns to his neighbor, Jensen, whom he barely knows, for help. BDSM AU courtship ensues.Tagged Jensen/OFC and F/M, Bad BDSM Etiquette and Topping from the Bottom in reference past events discussed by characters in the story.This story takes place in June, 2017, but Jared is twenty-five and Jensen is twenty-nine.Important to note: Although this is the "Dom Down the Hall" series posted as a single work, it has an extra chapter, which is simply the entirety of the original SPN Kinkmeme prompt that inspired this story, but which I could never post in a summary because it was too long.  That's the only new content here.There are more stories in this 'versehere, and some DVD Extras which are simply notes for the curious:timeline,Universe & Character Notesand a worldbuilding historical footnote,"The Dom and Sub Kings and Queens of England and the UK, Henry VII to the Present,".





	1. Prologue

The most frustrating aspect of this work has been that I haven't been able to post the SPN Kinkmeme prompt that inspired it, because that prompt was too long to fit in a summary box. But now that I'm posting this as a single work, I have all the space I need.

So here is what was requested on June 8, 2017:

In this AU, subs have come a long way in the last 100 years. They are allowed to be in public unaccompanied, clothed and unleashed, hold down jobs, make their own legal and business decisions - yeah, you’ve come a long way baby. If he had been born only a few decades, Jared would have remained under the control and tutelage of his familial Dom, until such a time that he would be tendered off to another Dom of his familial Dom’s choosing, probably to advance his family’s interests and increase their standing.

In these modern times though, Jared is an independent sub living on his own, went to college and graduated, and has a job with potential for advancement. As a sub, he’s breaking barriers and showing the Doms out there that subs can get the job done too. Overall, he’s pretty happy with his life and where he feels his future’s headed.

Today though is not a good day. He’s been reprimanded at work and must return the discipline report to his supervisor by the end of the week, verifying that he has been punished by as prescribed in the report. Without a Dom at home, his options are few. His familial Dom could take care of it but she take it as proof that he isn’t capable of being on his own so he’d rather not go there. There are the professionals but he’d rather not spend money just to get his ass whacked so impersonally.

Or, there’s another option and the perfect excuse. He can’t deny that he wants to find that special Dom out there to pledge himself to, who’ll be there to take care of his needs, and share a life with. And the quiet, green-eyed Dom that lives down the hall might be the one. Since the guy moved in, Jared had been hoping to expand their acquaintance beyond smiles and nods in passing. Maybe an unusual meet cute, but not unheard of, most Doms see it as their civic duty to aid subs out on their own in the big, cruel world. Jared hopes that a plea that he needs his ass black and blue by Friday to keep his job will entice the interest of the Dom, and lead to more long-term.


	2. Beat Cute

Jared was horrified by what he found in the kitchen. What was the point of having a rabbi certify the place as kosher if the dishwashing staff just threw in the dairy mixer blades with the meat mixer blades "because it's just easier that way, man"? While it wasn't directly Jared's fault, he had been the one to hire the guy responsible and in order to fire him (more for his complete indifference to having made the mistake than having made the mistake in the first place) he had to report it up the ladder. And notify any residents and staff who might've inadvertently broken their religious obligations.

The nursing home HR manager was sympathetic but told him that he, Jared, had pulled a corporal for himself. Jared shrugged off her apology. "The buck's gotta stop somewhere," he said, and she smiled at him.

"You'll go far with that attitude," she said. "Farther, I mean." Jared nearly preened at the compliment. Only two years out of college, he was in charge of keeping residents and staff fed...over a thousand meals a day and everyone said the food had improved dramatically over the year he'd been in the position.

His parents, still about three decades behind the times, hadn't wanted him to go to college. His dad still kneeled next to his mom during dinner, for fuck's sake. Aunt Lucy, though, argued on his behalf, telling his parents how great it would be if he got a degree in home economics. She'd told them how useful Jared's degree would be in attracting a top-notch dom, and told Jared, separately, that such a degree could actually lead to a lifelong career if he wanted it to.

Aunt Lucy had practically raised his dad and had given Jared's mom permission to court, and marry him, and her word carried a lot of weight. And she'd been right: without his nutrition science and management major he'd never have been able to dream of working his way up the ranks into management. Unless he'd been a dom, but he wasn't.

But now he was in the soup (Jared had very few non-food related metaphors at his disposal, which he felt reflected his dedication to his career) and, per the agreement reached with management, the observant Jewish residents and the rabbi, he had to get at least twenty with a belt and six with a cane by Friday from...someone...or, no matter how much his boss liked him, he'd be out of a job, his mother would do much worse to his ass, with added parental disappointment and probably would insist that he never contemplate paid employment again and then marry him off to a random lawyer or doctor's son like Sub Liberation had never even been a thing that had happened and then continued to happen. So there was no way he could ask her to do it. Aunt Lucy would've been happy to take care of it for him and not judged him too badly, but he'd still feel like he'd disappointed her. And she was in Peru until three days after he had to get the matter taken care of.

Jared didn't have a lot of other options. While he had a good salary, he also had an expensive apartment and an equally large automatic savings deposit (his mother insisted that he had to have a "dowry fund;" while Jared was looking forward to finding someone he could pledge himself to, he was absolutely sure that he'd never pledge himself to a dom who'd want that kind of thing, so he thought of it as a vague but non-marriage related investment that he couldn't tap into just yet). So going to any kind of certified professional would mean skimping on pretty much everything fun for a couple of months. Just because his ass had to take a hit didn't mean his wallet had to. Especially since he'd have to use a credit card and carry a balance for a couple of months at the exorbitant interest rate all unmarried subs were automatically assigned.

So Jared, who would normally bounce home from work and take his dogs for a run, smiling at everyone he saw along the way, was frowning and preoccupied as he rode the elevator up to his twelfth-floor apartment. He was so wrapped up in trying to solve his problem that he barely noticed his fellow passenger, who was barking into a phone about some upcoming case. Until, suddenly, the other man changed his tone of voice completely and said something to his colleague about catching "Wonder Sub" in a day or two. "Always been a fan," the guy said as he disconnected the phone.

Jared was also looking forward to "Wonder Sub;" the character had shown promise in "Batdom vs. Superdom" (although why the doms hadn't just let Wonder Sub handle the kryptonite was a deep mystery to him) and the word on the street was that the movie was good on a number of levels. Not like he'd be able to afford even a matinee ticket, Jared thought morosely.

Still, he wondered who his fellow fan was, and took a closer look.

Holy crap! It was J. Ackles, 12G, the ridiculously good-looking dom-down-the-hall, hair like honey and eyes like olives. Jared had been checking him out surreptitiously for months, but didn't know anything about him beyond that he liked Jared's dogs, had a nice voice, and was always very neatly turned out no matter the time of day or night.

"A lawyer who likes Wonder Sub?" Jared blurted out and immediately winced at his utter and complete lack of smooth.

J. Ackles, 12G, looked at Jared, who was trying not to squirm. Then suddenly he grinned and for Jared it was game over, he knew he had to get to know this dom better, a conviction confirmed when J. Ackles, 12G, said, "I have nothing to fear from a lasso of truth."

"Wow," Jared said articulately. "But...lawyer, right?" he persisted.

This time J. Ackles, 12G, did look a little annoyed. "We're not all lying scumbags," he said stiffly.

"No!" Jared protested. "That's not what I meant. I was trying to confirm because I kinda need a lawyer and I can't believe I just got on an elevator with one."

"Ah," the dom relaxed a bit. "I don't know if I can help you, but I can hear your problem and at least tell you who can. I won't even charge."

Jared grinned. "Thanks, man. Can you stop by my place in about thirty so I can get some apps ready?"

He got an exaggerated look of awe. "Apps? I have no immunity to canapes! J. Padalecki, 12B, you have found my weakness."

"J for Jared, J. Ackles, 12G."

"Jensen," the lawyer said. Jared extended his hand for a shake; though most people didn't even remember it these days, it hadn't been so long since a dom always waited for a sub to offer the handshake. That was one bit of dom/sub etiquette Jared had always kind of liked, even though it was a patronizing stab at offering subs a pretense of control.

The door opened and Jensen gestured for Jared to precede him. "Countdown to apps starts now," Jensen said, and it was like he was letting Jared go first not because Jared was a sub but because he wanted no time wasted between having been promised food and actually receiving food. As Jared approached 12B, he realized he was probably not far from a full-blown crush.

Thirty minutes later, Jensen was at the door, carrying a tray covered with different kinds of beer. Jared looked askance, his mind partly on his appetizers and partly on rehearsing his speech to Jensen about why Jared needed his help and Jensen should provide it.

"I saw you take your empties to recycling once, so I know you like beer, but I don't know what kind or what would go best with what you're making."

"That's awesome," Jared blurted. "Bring it all in. I've got little tasting glasses and everything!"

Jensen came in, automatically offering his hands to the dogs as soon as Jared had relieved him of his tray. "Can't beat the view," he said. "Why I moved here, really."

"Me, too," Jared agreed. "I love how we've got a green belt for the day and city lights at night."

"Only thing missing is a body of water," Jensen said, sitting comfortably on the sofa Jared had silently indicated he should use.

"Gotta get the food," Jared said and ran to the kitchen. Sure, it was just some dumb small talk, but in just a few minutes he'd found out so much about Jensen...including that they seemed to have a lot in common. "Be still, my heart," he muttered as he plated.

Within ten minutes, they were eating the appetizers and sipping the beer (Jared had picked a couple of IPAs) while Jared told Jensen his tale of woe.

"Are you trying to get out of a corporal?" Jensen asked, frowning slightly as he read the disciplinary order.

"God, no!" Jared was shocked at the idea. He'd earned his punishment fair and square. "If anything, I think they're being lenient. No one was physically hurt, but if my staff's cutting corners on this, God knows what could have happened, the ship is not tight and the captain is responsible. I was just hoping to find a way to get it taken care of without going to a pro or to a family member."

"Ah," Jensen said, relaxing again. "So you figured if you plied me with apps, I'd be a soft touch?"

"Only financially," Jared said. "I'm not looking to shirk pain, here, just financial penalties." Jensen nodded thoughtfully and Jared added, "And not just plying you with food, but also maybe taking you to see 'Wonder Sub'." Jared blushed. He hadn't meant to be so forward; it was the kind of thing subs he admired but never thought he could be like might say. Not subs like him who, education and career notwithstanding, had grown up in the kind of household where the sub spouse got a weekly strapping whether they'd done anything bad or not, just as a reminder.

"Deal," Jensen said abruptly.

"Oh, thanks, man," Jared said. "When...?"

"Not tonight or here," Jensen said, leaning forward, suddenly very business-like, pulling out his phone to look at his schedule. "We gotta do this by the book. You report to my office on Peachtree Friday at noon sharp, I'll sort you out, fill out the paperwork, and not see you for at least twenty-four hours afterward."

"Is that how it works?" Jared had never gotten a corporate corporal before and had been concentrating on the "who" part too much to concern himself with the "how" part.

"Yep," Jensen said. "My specialty isn't corporal disciplinary law, but as a member of the bar, I'm certified to provide it and I need to do so as professionally as possible. Especially," he added, "since my reimbursement involves going on a date with my hot client."

"Oh," Jared breathed. This was going so much better than he could've dreamed. Not that he wanted his ass whipped by Jensen...at least not for screwing up at work...but he definitely wanted a date with him. So maybe this wasn't how he would've wanted it to happen, but the important part is that it was happening.

"Our on-site medic owes me one, so she'll witness, supervise and provide physical aftercare. For corporate, I'm afraid, I can't do psychological."

"That's fine," Jared said. "For this kind of thing, I don't really need it. I take my licks, absorb the lesson and consider the punishment and forgiveness as kind of the same thing."

"Good," Jensen nodded approvingly, still in lawyer mode. "That's the attitude we take as lawyers, so that's why we have that as our policy. If you'd felt differently, I would've had to refer you to a disciplinary psychologist to make sure your punishment met your needs as well as those of the law."

"And the attitude you take as..." Jared broke off, cursing his impulsiveness. They hadn't even gone on their date yet! In two days, Jensen would be representing their justice system all over Jared's ass! It was hardly the time to start negotiating any kind of personal dynamic.

Jensen, though, just smiled at Jared. "I'm pretty sure you'll find out soon enough," he said and Jared shivered at the promise.

"Which just leaves me with one problem," Jared said.

"Oh?"

"Which Peachtree?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jared's apartment building is based on one I saw on an episode of "House Hunters" that was set in Atlanta. Aunt Lucy's arguments in favor of Jared's parents letting him go to college to major in home ec. are based "The Home Economics Story," a 1950s Iowa State proto-infomercial for its Home Ec program; it can be found on YouTube both in its original state and with Joel and the Bots giving it the MST3K treatment. The etiquette about who offers their hand to shake first is based on old-school male/female handshake etiquette in the US.


	3. The Responsibility, Contrition, Punishment and Catharsis Proceeding of Jared Padalecki

Friday was a nice day; Jared had mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, gloomy weather seemed more apt for getting corporal punishment. On the other, he didn't have to worry about wet pavement and inattentive pedestrians while he dealt with the mental and physical stress of the day.

After he'd sent an authorization for the medic from Jensen's firm, a Ms. Harris, to review his medical records, she had sent him an e-mail with a whole wad of preliminary information about what to expect from his "proceeding." Jared figured it was standard, but he'd never been disciplined by anyone other than his mom or Aunt Lucy before, so it was good to know what was going to happen. During college, he'd been trying so hard to make sure he was just as good as any dom in the school that he'd gone the whole four years without a single academic corporal. Virtually none of the subs at his school had gotten any; the only one was Alona, who'd turned a paper in late and taken three with a cane in lieu of a reduced grade. And that was only because her flight was delayed when she was returning from her grandmother's funeral and their industrial engineering prof was a real hardass.

Ms. Harris's letter gave him a list of products he should buy in advance to have at home during his recovery period and explained that the firm's car service would be taking him home at no extra charge. She would be there for the whole process: medical briefing before, medical monitoring during and medical care after. The firm would appreciate it if Sub Padalecki would allow an intern, identified as Mr. O. Chau, to be present before and during, but it was his right to refuse.

Jared was starting to appreciate why professional discipline was so expensive and just how lucky he was, purely from a financial standpoint, that Jensen was willing to organize all this in exchange for a ticket to see "Wonder Sub." Jared made a mental note to make sure Jensen got all the popcorn he could possibly eat as well.

As for the intern...well, Jared had been an intern himself and found the experience invaluable, partly because people had been so willing to help. And knowing he was helping out both the firm and the intern made him feel a bit like less of a moocher.

The most embarrassing part of the standard government corporal punishment form was Paragraph Six. Paragraph Six was notorious, actually, but he'd never bothered to find out why. Now he knew.

"Paragraph Six mandates that those administering corporal punishment assess the individual's response to pain. Your records indicate that you have a Masochism Index Level of eight out of ten. We will adjust the administration of your punishment accordingly."

Jared dearly hoped that didn't mean they planned to go past the minimum. He was sure he wasn't going to get turned on by being beaten for a professional fuck-up he was already mortified by. Pretty sure.

But it got worse.

"All males receiving corporal punishment are required to wear a chastity device over the penis during the proceedings. This is to ensure that the punishment carries no sexual connotations whatsoever, regardless of the individuals MIL. The device will be a metal model, selected from a government-approved list, that will be sterilized in view of the person being punished."

Translation: if you get turned on, we want to be able to ignore it. Jared had never worn a chastity device before. The idea made him feel...oddly aroused. How counterproductive.

There was more...a lot more. And then even more when he got to Jensen's firm on Friday at noon. Ms. Harris proved to be a tall, gorgeous redhead who looked like she smiled and laughed a lot but treated Jared with utmost dignity and respect. Mr. Chau was an exceptionally polite young man, thanking Jared for letting him observe his "responsibility, contrition, punishment and catharsis proceeding." Which was legalese for "getting your ass whacked." But they were both very nice about it.

Of course, they both addressed him as "Sub Padalecki" throughout. One of Jared's biggest dreams for reform (and he had a lot) was that subs would one day be addressed as "Mr." and "Ms." just like doms. But he already knew that being referred to by the hated title was hardly the worst thing that would happen to him all day.

By the time the medical briefing was done (complete with Ms. Harris showing him how to put on the device she'd just sterilized for him...thank God he didn't find it the least arousing in context, although he was filing some thoughts away for future, more pleasant reference) and Jared was sitting in a straight back chair facing a large table, wearing his interview suit and trying not to squirm and wondering why, when his whole body was naked under his suit, the only part of him he was noticing was the part that was caged, it was nearly one o'clock.

Jensen came in, nodded at them all, sat down behind the table and began the proceedings.

"Jared Padalecki, please explain your understanding of why you are being punished."

Hmm...not "Sub Padalecki." Was that normal or was Jensen being considerate? Jared realized he couldn't take the time to examine that thought; he had a response to give.

"I am responsible for an institutional kitchen which is certified kosher. I discovered that a member of the staff was mixing the blades from the blender used exclusively for meat products with those used for the dairy blender."

"How did this hurt others?"

"It resulted in some residents and staff violating their religious obligations without their knowledge. Additionally, it indicated that my staff was not taking care of equipment in the manner required, which could have had further repercussions had other kinds of cross-contamination occurred as a result of improper handling."

"Did any other cross-contamination occur, to your knowledge?"

"No, sir. I carefully inspected the kitchen and questioned the staff and, as far as I know at this time, only one person failed to follow procedures and only as it related to maintaining separation of meat and dairy equipment for religious reasons."

"Has this person been punished?"

"Yes. I ordered him to report to my manager with a recommendation for six strokes of the cane. He refused, telling me that my requirements were ridiculous and that, supervisor or not, as a sub I had no right to order corporal punishment. I referred him to my manager, concerned that the nature of his remarks might cloud my objectivity. She, my manager, apprised of his initial misdeed and subsequent subordination, ordered ten strokes of the cane and terminated his employment."

"Do you think you deserve to be punished for this former employee's actions."

"Absolutely, sir. While the infraction was his, I had hired him and he was working under my supervision."

"What further steps have you taken?"

"I suggested to my manager that we report the incident to the residents and staff who keep kosher as well as to our kosher rabbinical supervisor. She agreed and I explained the situation to everyone, took full responsibility and agreed to abide by any decision they made. They requested that I receive no less than twenty strikes with a strap and six with a cane."

"Do you think this punishment is just?"

"Yes, sir. In fact, I think they were being quite generous."

Jensen looked through his papers, took a sip of water, and cleared his throat.

"Jared Padalecki, it is clear that you understand the nature of your infraction and have demonstrated a sincere desire to make amends. Therefore, as a certified provider of corporal punishment, acting at the behest of Atlanta Pines Elder Community, an independent, non-profit organization, I will be administering the punishment as written: twenty strikes with a leather strap and six with a rattan cane. Have you spoken to a medical representative?"

"Yes, sir, Ms. Harris briefed me on what to expect and cleared my medical history. Mr. Chau was also present."

"Ms. Harris also briefed me. In light of your Masochism Index Level, I will not administer any preliminary 'warm up' to the punishment, I will be moving very quickly through the blows and will I not be distributing the blows to any area outside the buttocks. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Jared said. It made sense; someone like Jared, with his strong masochistic tendencies, needed his punishment to be as concentrated and fast as possible. For someone with a lower MIL, things would have proceeded a lot more slowly and carefully as they would've found any corporal punishment to be deeply unpleasant. As an eight on the MIL, Jared was considered at-risk for actually enjoying his punishment unless it was delivered as brutally as possible.

"Do you understand your right to a medical safe word?"

"Yes, sir. If I am experiencing any medical problems, including dizzyness or light-headedness, I am to use the word 'blue' to indicate that I require medical assistance."

Jensen nodded. "Please disrobe," he told Jared.

Jared stood to remove his clothing. Since the humiliation of nudity was considered part of corporal discipline, there was no privacy screen or a robe like at the doctor's. Even so, he couldn't help having a few fleeting sexy thoughts about getting naked for Jensen, but the clinical nature of the experience, as well as the presence of Ms. Harris and Mr. Chau, quashed those pretty quickly. He wasn't really getting naked for Jensen anyway, he reasoned; he was getting naked for the people his actions had harmed and Jensen, or rather, Mr. Ackles, ABA, was simply their representative.

Once he was naked, Jared kneeled on the punishment bench. Ms. Harris bound him as they'd agreed, Jensen picked up the strap and folded it in half.

"Twenty with the strap, Sub Padalecki," he said, then moved behind Jared. "Counting is not required unless you request it."

"No counting, sir." He trusted Jensen to give him exactly twenty, no more or less.

And Jensen gave him twenty. Quickly and harshly; Jared barely had time to process anything other than extreme pain and couldn't focus on anything but remembering to breathe.

"That's twenty with the strap administered," Mr. Chau said. Jensen moved back into Jared's sightline, putting the strap on safety paper laid on the table. Jensen took a couple of long drinks of water before he picked up the cane. He showed Jared the cane, and Jared nodded, acknowledging the instrument and accepting that it met all legal requirements. Once more, Jensen moved behind him. The cane took a little longer than the strap had; while he couldn't see, Jared guessed that Jensen was making sure his sights were aimed to prevent wrapping. After Jensen started, he moved quickly and once more Jared just concentrated on breathing through it, knowing that as much as it hurt it would be over soon.

The real bear would be in the recovery.

Less than five minutes after he'd removed his clothes, Jared was sitting back in his chair, in considerable discomfort. Ms. Harris had put a cooling pad with a safety cover on it on the seat of the chair and Jared supposed it probably helped. He shuddered at the thought that it could've been worse; he'd read somewhere that in the past, offenders had to sit on a hard chair for the final phase. As it was, the blows had made him tear up although he hadn't sobbed (thank God, sobbing could lead to hyperventilation and he'd've had to call blue and the whole thing would've taken that much longer).

Jensen sat back down behind the table.

"Jared Padalecki, you have received your punishment."

"Thank you, sir," Jared said. Not just polite...it was the law. He blinked out a few tears, not bothering to wipe them away.

"I would now like to read a post-punishment statement. It was written by Diane Wilson, on behalf of all those who petitioned for your punishment."

Jared blinked, partly for more tears and partly because he hadn't expected this at all. Diane Wilson was the unofficial leader of the observant Jewish community at Pines, and a serious old-school dom who'd never given Jared the time of day. He did not want to hear what she had to say about this fiasco, but it was all apparently part of the process.

Jensen picked up a piece of heavy paper and began to read directly from it.

"Once Submissive Jared Padalecki has received his punishment, the residents and staff of Atlanta Pines Elder Community whose religious dietary requirements were violated in a kitchen supervised by Sub Padalecki wish it to be known to all, and especially to Sub Padalecki, that we bear him no ill-will whatsoever. Over the last year that he has been supervising the dietary program, quality has increased without a commensurate increase in cost and Sub Padalecki's friendly nature and genuine care for all the residents and staff he serves has been apparent. While the incident for which he is being punished is regrettable, we all agree that Sub Padalecki showed true contrition from the moment he discovered the problem and handled himself with a degree of professionalism and willingness to take responsibility that most people two or even three times his age would not demonstrate. Furthermore, Sub Padalecki exhibited cultural sensitivity and understanding and did not seek to trivialize the nature of the problem. We fully forgive Jared Padalecki for his transgression and look forward to enjoying his presence in the community for many years to come."

By the time Jensen finished reading the letter, Jared was bawling openly. Sure, the pain was really catching up to him, but he could've handled that with some stoicism. Ms. Wilson's letter of forgiveness, though, was so totally left-field that Jared just lost it. Dimly, he was aware that Jensen was talking to Mr. Chau.

"That, Osric, is Catharsis. He'd already been through Responsibility and Contrition before he even walked in the door. Don't get used to it, though. It's very rare to see the justice system work this well."

Ms. Harris bent down over Jared, carefully wiping his face and offering him a bottle of water.

"Sip it slowly when you're ready," she advised, then stepped back to the desk to pick up some papers.

Gradually, Jared realized that all three of the others were carefully absorbed in paperwork while he regained some calm. He doubted that all, or even most, corporate discipline was handled this well. He also doubted that they were being tactful just because he was Jensen's neighbor; he just figured that they were that good at what they did. Ms. Harris, though, was the only one present who did this on a routine basis. Jensen had specifically told Jared that corporal discipline wasn't his legal specialty and Mr. Chau was just starting out.

Was it possible that Jensen was simply feeling a dominant's natural protectiveness toward a submissive? Could it be even more personal than that? Jared didn't want to read to much into it, but it gave him something to think about other than his ass, which was not at all happy. Sure, he'd gotten some endorphins going, but the whole process had been planned to minimize that kind of natural mitigation of his punishment.

"Thank you again, all of you," Jared said, indicating that he was ready to move on to medical aftercare. He dearly hoped he wasn't being too ambitious about that.

"You're welcome, Sub Padalecki," Jensen said. "Before Ms. Harris takes over for your final medical inspection and advice, I'd like to show you something." Jensen stood up and brought Ms. Wilson's letter to Jared. "I wanted you to see for yourself that everyone named in the complaint personally signed the letter, rather than having Ms. Wilson sign for all."

Jared couldn't see too great; his eyes were still watering too much, but he could see well enough to distinguish Mr. Gold's flamboyantly large copperplate signature. And Ms. Iskandar, over hundred, arthritic and nearly blind as well, had carefully, if somewhat quaveringly, written out all four of her names. There was love in this letter, Jared thought, as well as forgiveness. He started crying again.

"Do you need follow-up counseling?" Jensen asked, clearly concerned. "Don't worry about...." Jensen cut himself off before he brought up financial matters. "I can arrange it," he said instead, and Jared was pretty sure he'd stressed the "I."

"No, I'm good," he said. "I just...wasn't expecting a letter like this. And thank you for showing me the signatures. It means a lot to me."

"Clearly, you mean a lot to Atlanta Pines," Jensen said. He looked into Jared's eyes for just a moment, probably the extreme limit of what he was allowed to show in this setting and Jared was having trouble not throwing himself at the dom's feet. Fortunately, Jensen and Mr. Chau cleared out pretty quickly, Jensen simply saying, "Mr. Chau and I are done here; the rest is up to Ms. Harris."

Jared's emotions were in a whirl while Ms. Harris examined him and made notes. He was vaguely aware of her giving him instructions about lotion and pain relievers, but not capable of giving her his full attention. He'd told Jensen that he wasn't the type to need psychological aftercare, and he didn't need it now, but he had to admit to himself that the emotional fallout from his punishment was way more overwhelming than he'd been expecting. The residents' letter, Jensen's allowing his professional demeanor to slip just a bit....

Jensen hadn't been kidding when he'd told Mr. Chau that Jared had reached catharsis. Ms. Harris turned her back so he could slip off the cage and get his underwear on, which he had to do while still sitting in the chair, then she turned around so she could help him with the rest of his clothes in case standing up was a little too much for him. He managed, signed off the paperwork she handed him.

"Okay, Jared Padalecki, I'm not going to pretend like you heard everything I said; that's why you have the instruction sheet. And while you're a little out of it, I trust the car service to get you home okay. But there are two things I need to make sure you absolutely understand before I let you walk out that door."

Jared brought himself to attention. "Yes, ma'am?" he asked.

"Do not take aspirin until the bruising is gone. And do not forget to check your voicemail in twenty-four hours."

"Is that when you follow up, ma'am?"

Ms. Harris actually rolled her eyes at him. "No, that's as soon as Jensen will be legally allowed to call you. And I get the feeling that's a call you don't want to lose." She frowned for a second. "Unless I'm completely misreading things. You should know that although I've known him for years and he's not that kind of dom, if he does or says anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or pressured, let me know right away. My number's on the sheet. There's also a national hotline you can call if you don't feel comfortable talking to me."

Jared offered his hand and she shook it warmly. Some days he really liked how protective doms could get toward unattached subs. This was definitely one of those days.

"Twenty-four hours," he said with a smile. "I'll try not to count them down."


	4. Riding

Jared limped his way though corridors, into the elevator, off the elevator and into the lobby, taking occasional sips from the sports drink Ms. Harris had given him. He thought nothing in the world could possibly take his mind off his ass, which felt like a habanero pepper in a suit. But he was distracted from the pain when he Mr. Chau approached him.

"I'm here to drive you home, Sub Padalecki," Mr. Chau informed him. Jared looked at him, disoriented.

"They make you do everything around here?" he asked. "And, if it's allowed, please call me Jared."

"Sure, Jared. I'm Osric, if you'd prefer. And I don't usually work the car service pool, but Mr. Ackles suggested it." Jared somehow caught Osric's eyes slightly flicking to the left. Jared mirrored the look and saw Jensen lurking discreetly by a potted palm near the security guard's station. He wanted to give Jensen a thumbs-up to indicate that he was basically okay but didn't. He had no idea how the whole no-contact-for-twenty-fours rule worked.

"Thank him for that when you get a chance, okay?" Jared said instead.

"Will do," Osric said. "Would you like my arm?"

Jared was impressed...a lot of doms, under pretty much any circumstances, automatically tried to take a sub's arm and got offended if the gesture was rejected. "If you don't want me to be polite, I won't be," was one typically huffy response Jared had gotten from some asshole he'd gone on a date with. Once. When he'd gotten home, his mom had expected a full, positive report of that date, which was with the daughter of her accountant, a dom who would be taking over her father's practice in due time. Although her actions had been perfectly in line with what Jared's mother would consider gentledomly behavior, Jared had made a tragic face and said, "She tried to...take liberties," and that had been the end of it.

Jared's mom thought her baby boy was unusually chaste and she took pride in that. Jared was not above using that to his advantage.

But Osric was asking, not telling, and probably because he was genuinely concerned about Jared's ability to stay on his feet rather than thinking Jared was, as a sub, congenitally incapable of finding his own way or not tripping over things (which, given the kinds of shoes all subs had worn not so long ago and that some subs still inexplicably chose, was not a totally unfair concern).

"I'm good..well, okay...for now, but if you'd stick pretty close, that'd be great," Jared said. Osric nodded and told him the car was waiting just outside. They took the side door rather than the revolving one, presumably so Osric could continue to be handy in case of emergency, and Jared couldn't resist casting a quick look over his shoulder. Jensen was still communing with the decorative plant but no eye contact was made. Jared sighed. Seeing Jensen in the lobby was already more than he'd expected, anyway, so he tried to take comfort from that.

The ride home was as comfortable as could be expected. Someone had put a cooling pad on the back seat, along with another bottle of sports drink. Osric was a safe driver, going slowly and taking a slightly longer route to avoid a bunch of potholes on Johnson Ferry. Once they got to Jared's building, Osric got him up to 12B with a minimum of fuss.

"Would you like to come in?" Jared asked Osric politely as he unlocked the door.

"If you want further assistance getting comfortable," Osric offered, "but beyond that, I do have to be getting back downtown." Cardy, the younger and friskier of Jared's dogs, immediately came to the door, Zucchini not far behind.

"Oh, you have dogs," Osric said. "Will you be able to take care of them?"

"Yeah," Jared said, wincing as he bent to greet his babies. "Got a friend coming over in a bit to check up on me and help me walk 'em."

"That's good then," Osric said. Hesitantly he asked, "Your friend...well, it's just that...."

"What?" Jared said. He was tired of this whole day and while he appreciated that Osric was trying to be polite, he just wanted the whole thing over with.

"Since you've never had this kind of formal disciplinary before, and have foregone psychological aftercare, there is a legal concern about who you might be in contact with over the next twenty-four hours," Osric said uncomfortably.

Jared sighed. He was really beginning to hate the phrase "twenty-four hours."

"You'd better come in," he said. "I think I need an explanation and the hallway is not the best place for it."

"Sure," Osric said, and they went through the door. Jared closed it behind him and waved toward the couch for Osric to sit. It wasn't like Jared himself had any plans to sit; as soon as he could, he was going to faceplant on his bed.

"I'm good," Osric said, continuing to stand, not crowding Jared but close enough to be handy if Jared needed physical assistance. Osric looked up at Jared. "The thing is, the law says that you should limit your contact with doms outside your own family for twenty-four hours after a procedure. You're in a vulnerable state and doms could take advantage. And not just predatory doms, either. Perfectly nice doms who have only your well being at heart might find themselves slipping into an overly protective mode...."

"And I could be receptive to that and the whole thing could go into a downward spiral from there?" Jared interrupted to guess.

"Exactly," Osric nodded. "The legal term is 'folie de châtiment,' meaning 'madness of chastisement'. My bringing you home and making sure your environment is safe is about the limit of what any of us can do without getting in a whole different set of authorities."

"So that's why...."

"Believe me, it's not because he doesn't want to," Osric said. Jared wondered if he was being that transparent or if Osric was that smart. He figured it was both. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about Jensen talking about him to an intern, but Osric seemed to be a breed apart, from what Jared could tell.

"Did he...?"

"No," Osric said. "Mr. Ackles doesn't usually do this type of work and it was my first, well, exposure to it as well, if you'll forgive the term. We had a long chat about both the letter and spirit of the law and the ethics of the situation. I learned a lot. And I really appreciate that you let me participate."

"I've been an intern, too," Jared said. "And my friend who's coming over is a sub, so no worries there. And...well, if Jensen asks, just let him know I'm doing okay and I've got people."

"I will," Osric promised. "Now I'd better leave you to your recovery, since everything seems to be in order."

"Thanks," Jared said, and opened the door for Osric, who nodded and left.

Jared moved as quickly as he could to his bed and fell forward onto his bed like a slice of bread that had just been cut off the loaf, groaning loudly. He was exhausted, but he had a couple of things to do before he could fall asleep. He pulled out his phone and sent a mass text to his friends: "Went ok, exhausted, gonna sleep." He sent an additional text to Misha: "Home. Dogs walked at 10 a.m. Let yourself in. Do not wake me but stick around if you can. Thnx."

Then Jared pushed off his suit and boxers, grabbed some cream off the nightstand and applied it liberally. He popped two Tylenol, finished off the sports drink, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this universe, Johnson Ferry Road has potholes. Terrible, terrible potholes. I have no idea if that's true in our universe, but where these guys live? Man, that street is just evil. And Jensen knows it. And he told Osric to avoid it. Awww.


	5. Twenty Four Hours on the Scoville Scale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief reference to past marijuana experimentation that didn't go so great and is in no way based on the personal experience of the author or anyone known to her.
> 
> The Scoville Scale is used to rate the spiciness of food in general and chili peppers in particular. Guatemalan Insanity Peppers (or, to use their correct name, Quetzalacatenango peppers) are fictional (from "The Simpsons") and are proven to be so spicy that they induce hallucinations. The other peppers mentioned in the story are real, but their Scoville ratings have been simplified: the rating for any pepper is usually expressed as a range, so Scotch Bonnets, for example, can go anywhere from 100,000-350,000 depending on the individual specimen.

Jared woke up with an ass that had to be at least a half million Scovilles. Not quite Guatemalan Insanity Pepper, but definitely past Scotch Bonnet levels. Groaning, he picked up his phone from the pillowcase where he'd dropped it. It was unpleasantly damp.

"Shit, did I drool on this thing?" Jared grumbled. Not that he really cared; he just wanted to know what time it was. 6:00 p.m. Not bad, but he still felt pretty tired. He checked his messages; there were dozens, but he was only looking for one from Misha, which he found quickly. It was time stamped 2:30 p.m., not that long after Osric had dropped him off.

"I'm in ur living room, drinkin ur tea." Then there was 2:45 p.m.: "I'm in ur woods, walkin ur dogz." Then the first message was repeated at 3:05, the second at 5:30, with a final repeat of the first at 5:45 p.m.

If all Misha was doing was drinking his tea, he was lucky. Jared remembered the time Misha had poured like half a bottle of kefir all over his own face and Jared's kitchen floor. It was not his fondest memory of his friendship with Misha.

Jared hoisted himself from the bed, found the softest sweats he owned, attended to business related to excessive sports drink consumption, and went out into his living room to find Misha doing yoga in front of the wall of windows on the south side of Jared's apartment. Misha loved doing yoga with a view. At least this time he was wearing pants.

"Hey, how's your ass?" Misha said without looking around. Jared noticed that he'd shoved his view-appreciation chairs aside and put down some large cushions, presumably in deference to Jared's delicate condition.

"Eh, down to about a Red Amazon." Cardy bounced up to Jared, putting his paws on Jared's knees. Zucchini approached more cautiously, although if that was out of personal concern or general laziness, Jared would never know. He lavished love on his babies.

"Refresh my memory?"

"75,000 Scovilles. It's actually a dried, and therefore more concentrated, Tabasco. Right after, I was at Habanero, so down about 25K."

"Nice," Misha said. "You groovin' on the pain yet?"

"A little," Jared admitted. His Masochism Index Level was well known to Misha and, really, all of his friends, ever since he'd sprained his wrist while rollerblading and gotten noticeably erect on the trip to the ER. "But it's weird," he added.

"Because this was punishment?"

"Yeah. I feel like I shouldn't be eroticizing it."

"Well, they let you take Tylenol and put lotion on it, right? So it's not like they're totally anti-pain management after the fact."

"I guess, but still," Jared said, wandering over to the fridge to get yet more sports drink. "Anyway, I've got company."

"I can take off if you want alone time for...pain management," Misha offered. From anyone else, it would've sounded sleazy, but from Misha, it was a matter-of-fact offer made out of courtesy

"Nah, I'm handling it," Jared said, sprawling out on a cushion, leaning on his left side. "It's just...the whole thing is really weird. A few days ago, I was all, 'Man, that dom down the hall is hot' and now I've actually met him, fed him, and am probably going on a date with him."

"And gotten your ass smacked by him," Misha said. "And what's this 'probably' crap? When did you become a pessimist?"

"When I realized that I lead the kind of life where the only way I can talk to a hot dom is if I'm in legal trouble and motivated by extreme financial panic."

"Ah."

"Plus...the ass smacking. He's seen me naked and everything. Worse than that, even. Naked except for a cock cage!"

"Cock cages," Misha sighed dreamily.

"Yeah, yeah, you're a well-known pervert, but...."

"You were glad you had one, weren't you?"

"Well, duh. Who knows what the hell is gonna happen down there when shit gets real like that? It wasn't just Jensen, either. The medic, Ms. Harris, is Jensen-level hot, and Osric seems to be just the sweetest dom ever."

"Osric?"

"Mr. Chau, the intern. He was really nice. All of them were. Concerned, professional and when Ms. Harris helped me off the bench and into my chair, I was ready to offer them all favors of an inappropriately intimate nature."

"How inappropriate?" Misha wanted to know.

"Oral gratification to completion at the very least."

"All of them, not just Jensen?"

"Yeah, but really and most especially Jensen."

"The twenty-four hour rule really sounds more and more sensible with every word you utter and every strand of hair you twirl."

"Oh, my God," Jared breathed. He really had been fiddling with his hair. Self-consciously, he pulled his hand off his head and reached for the sports drink.

"And in two days you've gotten on a first name basis with two different doms," Misha said. "Our little boy is growing up."

"Oh, shut up," Jared said grumpily.

"About this, for now, I will," Misha said. "To change the subject, and perhaps the scenery, maybe we should get the kids outdoors? I just walked them, but I think all of us would benefit from the sun, the breeze and the scent of freshly cut grass."

Once they were outside, shoes kicked off to maximize the late spring goodness of the lawn between Jared's apartment building and the woods beyond, Misha checked up on the state of Jared's ass.

"Holding steady at Amazon Red," Jared reported.

"And the rest of Jared Padalecki?"

"Actually, I feel pretty good. Tired. Afterward, I got to catharsis, actually."

"Wow," Misha said as he snapped the Frisbee across the lawn toward Cardy. "That's actually a thing, then?"

"Yeah," Jared said. "I sort of remember it from civics in high school. Like, taking responsibility and getting the corporal are for society and justice, and contrition and catharsis are for the offenders."

"Hee, you're an offender! Jar-ed is of-fen-sive," Misha chanted softly. "And Cardy's a good dog," he said in completely different tone as Cardy returned with the Frisbee.

"See, that's just it, it's like a PSA or something: I'm not an offender anymore. It's done with, over, finished, in the rearview mirror, history like a solved mystery. The residents, well the ones who keep kosher anyway, wrote the nicest letter and they all signed it and everything."

"Even our beloved, ever-stand-offish Ms. Wilson?"

"She actually wrote it. I thought she hated seeing a sub with as much responsibility as I've got, but she thinks I'm doing a good job." Jared thought for a moment. "Actually, in the letter she said that she was so impressed by my actions because I was acting well beyond my years. Nothing about being 'surprising for a sub' or any of that shit."

Misha waved the Frisbee at Zucchini, who looked like she wasn't all that into it but was willing to humor him. Misha flung it, lazy and slow, for her to wander after.

"So maybe she's a reverse-ageist instead of the dynamicist you always thought she was?"

"Could be," Jared said. "I kind of like being looked down on for my age rather than for my dynamic. I'm gonna get older and more experienced, after all, but I'm never not gonna be a sub."

"Hmm," Misha said and left it at that. Jared didn't always feel comfortable talking about dynamics with Misha; although he was legally a sub, he considered himself a "switch," someone who could move between submissive and dominant depending on the situation and who he was with. Most of the world thought "switch" was a make-believe identity claimed only by utter flakes. Jared thought that, while Misha was undeniably a flake in some regards, there was probably something to this whole "switch" business. Not that he would ever be anything but submissive, but he'd known Misha long enough to take him at his word on his dynamic. But Jared figured that, it must be hard for him to live in a sort of dynamic limbo that most people didn't even acknowledge was a thing and then have to listen to his friends complain about issues related to being basically quite secure in their own identity. So Jared figured it was largely better to try to keep being too obnoxious about his own cisdynamic status.

"So, Mary Lincoln, other than the beating, how's your week going? After all, you finally got to meet 12G," Misha said, kneeling to conduct a nonverbal discussion with Zucchini over the Frisbee. Misha wanted it back, but Zucchini clearly believed that surrendering it would simply lead to it being thrown again just so she'd have to retrieve it.

"Jensen," Jared said.

"You are such a tweeny-bopper when you say his name," Misha said, his tone rather more approving than not. "Look, Zucchini Blossom, if you give me the Frisbee, I will stop pestering you for it, so that's one less thing you have to worry about in life. Furthermore, I promise I'll only pass it to Cardy for the rest of our time here, so there you go: all of your life obstacles have been overcome!"

Zucchini let Misha have the Frisbee and he sailed it Cardy's way.

"If tweeny-bopper is a really a word, it does describe me," Jared admitted. "I mean, I have the degree and the job and the mortgage and all, but when it comes to dating, I might as well be twelve."

"What about all those loser doms your mom made you go out with?"

"Okay, fourteen maybe. But no serious relationships and very little in the way of physical activity. Do doms even want virgins anymore?"

"Who cares what 'doms' want?" Misha asked. "You don't. You just care about what Jensen wants."

"It's true," Jared sighed. Misha made a "there you go" gesture.

"And if Jensen is deeply concerned about sexual experience, or the lack of it, either as a deal-breaker or maker, then he's an asshole and you don't want him," Misha said confidently. "Last time, Cardy," he bellowed across the lawn. Cardy immediately started running in circles rather than stop the fun. If Zucchini had access to a watch, she'd have been checking it.

"Come on, Zucchini, outside is your friend," Jared cajoled. "I swear, you are the most indoor being I've ever met."

"I bet you could get her a box and some litter and train her like a cat," Misha said. Cardy finally came back with the Frisbee and a stick. "Ah, there you are. And you brought me something pretty," Misha cooed.

"And yeah, I don't want him if he's weird about virgins. Or career subs. Or domestic discipline," Jared said. "But I basically don't want him to be weird about those things."

"I think you watched too many Lifetime Originals when you were younger," Misha said as they started to walk back to Jared's building.

"Not you, too," Jared groaned. "You're like my mother. 'You'll get unrealistic expectations about relationships from that junk, Jared. You'll set your standards too high and nobody but Dack Rambo will do'."

This comparison to Jared's mom brought Misha up short.

"Dack Rambo?"

Okay, maybe it wasn't the parental comparison that confused MIsha.

"He was this dom actor my dad was way into," Jared explained. "Like, it was a joke between my parents that he was my dad's dream dom and if he ever came knocking, Mom would have to have knock-down drag-out fight him to keep Dad from volunteering to be kidnapped."

"Wow. I can't imagine your mom joking about something like that."

"She does have a sense of humor, you know. Anyway, she has said on more than one occasion that she likes the idea of Robert Vaughn naked on a leash she's holding."

"Good God," Misha exclaimed, sounding as close to shocked as he ever got. "Are your parents necrophiliacs or something?"

"Come on, they grew up in different times in all sorts of ways," Jared laughed. "Anyway, this conversation has gotten way off topic."

"I hadn't noticed," Misha said.

"'Course you haven't," Jared scoffed. "You're too busy planning to make out with that stick to keep track."

"I think you do not understand the meaning of the term 'pansexual.' It means I am potentially attracted to all adult humans, regardless of sex or dynamic, not that I'm sexually attracted to the entire universe."

"You are totally in love with the entire universe," Jared insisted. "You want to pledge yourself to it."

"Oh, well, if you mean it that way," Misha said, "I made that commitment years ago. But I don't want to have sex with it or every single molecule of it."

They carried the conversation over through the lobby, into the elevator, and eventually into Jared's apartment.

"Okay, now we can talk about Jensen again," Misha said as soon as Jared locked the door behind them, interrupting his own monologue about how he was pretty sure Tom Cruise thought he was pulling off the greatest con job in the history of dynamic affectation in the world, but was fooling absolutely nobody.

"My God, was all that random babble actually clever camouflage?"

"I never dispense random babble," Misha said loftily as he poured them each a ginger ale. "My blather always has a reason for being."

"That's a bigger lie than Tom Cruise's dynamic presentation," Jared said. "You just didn't want me to embarrass myself by going on and on about Jensen in public." Jared paused. "Thank you for that," he added.

"De nada," Misha said. "Now you can get as swoony as you want while I heat up dinner."

Jared set his ginger ale on the floor next to the window so he could flop onto a cushion with no unfortunate spillage.

"There's dinner?"

"If you like. In fact, it's Super Surprise Dinner."

"What's that? You didn't let your weirdo roommate bake something odd into a casserole, did you?"

"God, that made you so sick," Misha remembered fondly. "I've never seen anyone get nauseated from marijuana before. We felt pretty bad about it, after talking you into trying it. Usually, people use it to avoid that."

"Contrarian to the core," Jared said. "Plus, it was better I found out about it in the company of friends. But seriously: what's the big surprise about dinner?"

"The Super Surprise is that I stopped by Atlanta Pines today, on my alleged day of rest."

"So they got an extra yoga class?"

"That, too, but it was at their request. Harry Alexander gave the kitchen his grandmother's chicken and dumpling soup recipe."

"No! He treasures that like his very own flesh and blood."

"Well, in a way it is. Not that he's a chicken, but it was his grandmother's big legacy. And he had Mr. Gold copy it out for the staff. He didn't give them the sacred parchment itself."

"The staff?"

"The kitchen staff. Coraline feels really bad about not noticing what Dick was doing."

"Dave," Jared corrected Misha on the name of the dishwasher who was lazy about everything but being a total asshole.

"I say he's a Dick and I say the hell with him," Misha countered. "Anyway, they followed the recipe and now there is healing soup in your fridge. Also, Boss Lady Griffin gave me a big box of sample products for you to play with until you go back on Wednesday, but she stressed that it's only in case you get bored and want some distraction. She doesn't expect a report on them until...whenever it is you do those things. She also sent along a complete DVD set of 'Wonder Sub,' you know, TV from the seventies, in case that was a more attractive entertainment option. I don't think she expects a report on those at all, although she does want them back at some point."

"Holy cow, I haven't seen that in ages. And never all the way through. I was always more about the print stuff."

"Okay, so you got a letter, precious chicken soup, complete with recipe card attached, 'Wonder Sub' DVDs...you need any more proof that you're shriven and forgiven?"

"Actually, I already felt that way. Now it's just getting embarrassing."

"Are you too proud to eat the soup?"

"Hell no."

Misha went into the kitchen to attend to the soup. Jared looked out the window, easily picking Jensen's work building from the skyline. He'd been pretty wrapped up in his own stuff since he'd left, but now he wondered if Jensen was still at work or at home. Was he thinking about Jared at all? He must be, Jared reasoned, if only from a professional standpoint. He literally didn't administer discipline every day, at least not in a professional capacity (hopefully not in any capacity). So Jared must've been a novel variation on his routine at least. And if the twenty-four hour rule was there for both their sakes, maybe Jensen was, wherever he was, thinking about Jared as more than just a oddity in his day. Maybe he was even worried about Jared.

Jared frowned. He didn't like to think that Jensen was too concerned or even anxious, especially since Jared himself was basically fine. Everyone knew how protective doms could be even toward subs they didn't even know...in the nineties, his own hardass mother had taken Sub Princess Diana's side over Dom Prince Charles's while his dad had been a bit less sympathetic toward the vulnerable celebrity royal. And Jensen seemed to like Jared and had had to beat his ass into a black-and-blue burger without much of a how-do-you-do and then promise to keep away for twenty-four hours.

Except...Jared looked at his phone. 1:30 p.m. on Saturday was now only seventeen hours away. By the time Jensen would be allowed to call him, Jared's ass would hopefully be down to Cayenne. Now all he had to do was take care of himself and not obsess over Jensen.

"Hey, Misha, do you think I should save the 'Wonder Sub' DVDs for later in case Jensen wants to join me for a pre-movie marathon?"

"Oh, good night in the morning!" Misha exclaimed from the kitchen. "Why don't you just get a Wonder Sub costume and wear it around town?"

Thoughtfully, Jared picked up his phone again and brought up Google. Not that he would literally wear that outfit around town, but maybe....

Jared sighed. He was building too much out of too little. Sure, Jensen had been the first one to mention "Wonder Sub" (although to a colleague) but a mutual love of one superhero wasn't something to base an entire relationship on.

"No costume," he muttered to himself. He looked dreamily out at the Atlanta skyline. "At least, not yet," he amended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is extremely important to note that when I was looking for someone for Jared's mom to have a celebrity crush on, I googled "pretty boy actors" and Jensen Ackles is search engine optimized for that term. I went with someone else for obvious reasons: Jensen Ackles is totally the wrong age range for Jared's mom, who likes 'em older.


	6. Not too Long to Wait

After Harry Alexander's Nana's chicken and dumpling soup (exemplary; Jared wondered if he could get the man's permission to introduce it to the menu...or at least offer it as a special treat for people under the weather), they took the dogs out again. Then Jared and Misha played chess for awhile. Since Misha was fully concentrating on the game and Jared's mind kept wandering back to Jensen, it did not go well for Jared. They watched a documentary about wind turbines and then Misha guided him through a series of poses designed to relax, strengthen, stretch and heal all at once. Downward Facing Dog stretched Jared's ass in a way that was not altogether unpleasant, while the Gate pose took his mind off his ass entirely as he stretched his sides and felt the burn in his inner thigh muscles.

During the half-hour they spent on the poses, Jared was strictly forbidden from talking about Jensen. Jared didn't mind Misha's bossiness; he was used to Misha occasionally taking point on their various endeavors, but had never felt that it made him more submissive than usual. That pattern remained true even in Jared's allegedly vulnerable state, but he wasn't sure if that was because he really wasn't that vulnerable or if because Misha, commanding as he could be at times, was not someone Jared had ever crushed on.

After the poses, Jared tried to get some more insights out of Misha.

"What you were saying earlier...do you really thinking my youthful penchant for Lifetime Original Movies left me with unrealistically high expectations about...relationships?" Jared almost dropped "love" in that sentence, then realized it was way to early to start thinking in those terms. One cookie didn't make a batch; one crush didn't equal true love.

"What, like you said your mom thought? No, actually, I was going to make a different point before I got sidetracked with that Dack Rambo business. And finding out about your parents' celebrity free pass choices. What I think it left you with is an overly developed sense of caution about doms. You know perfectly well that the dream doms who rescue the endangered subs are not true to life, but you've totally taken on board that the bad doms from which Lifetime Original subs need to be rescued are everywhere. It's just that you think you need to be able to rescue yourself, which is good, but you're afraid you won't be able either to recognize you've got a bad 'un, or that you will but won't have the mental resources for self-rescue."

Jared tamped down his immediate impulse to get defensive. "I've met plenty of bad doms," he said mildly.

"True," Misha said, "but how many of them were people your mom set you up with? You know: doms who had a pretty old-school idea of how things are supposed to work: you at home, most of your social life regulated by your dom...exactly the wrong matches for you."

"True," Jared echoed. "But look at what happened freshman year. That was me, trying a new way to meet doms and it backfired horribly."

"And you left that situation behind. Sure, it cost you, but you found out you can walk away. I know you've been beating yourself up over being in that situation, but I think that for every time you start up on the self-recrimination, maybe you should try countering by reminding yourself of that simple fact: you walked away. No one told you to do that. You figured it out on your own and walked away on your own."

"At considerable personal cost," Jared pointed out.

"A hard-won personal victory," Misha countered. "Just try not to let pessimism get you down. I know you hate dating, especially since most of your dates have been mom-approved without being kid-tested, but once you and Jensen start hanging out regularly, and you will, so stop fretting about that, it'll be a different kind of dating. It'll be learning about each other because of genuine interest, not duty dinners because your mom wants to score an in-law discount on her taxes or gall bladder surgery or whatever the hell it is she thinks she'll get from using your romantic life for advancing the family's fortunes."

"Hmm," Jared said, because he didn't disagree but was still far from confident. "Thing is, I don't know how to act while dating someone I might actually like. I mean, once I get to know him, if he's not an asshole, which all signs point to no on that so far."

"For instance?"

"I guess the big one that's bothering me is whether I should tell him upfront about being a virgin?"

"Look, I'm about to give you the same advice you've heard from me over and over again about every aspect of your life: be yourself. Maybe try not to blurt it out from nowhere, but if it comes out in conversation because you can be a little unfiltered and direct, well, that will tell him who you are. More than the fact that you're a virgin."

"I know, I know, if my way of talking about that, or anything else, makes him want to run away, I should be the one to call him a taxi. Metaphorically."

"Well, that's a bit strong, but, no, you can't nag or cajole anyone into wanting to be with you if they feel like there's a fundamental personality mismatch. But of course you don't want there to be one in the first place," Misha said. "We've all been there, believe it or not."

"I believe it," Jared said, "but I don't like it."

"Doesn't exactly feed your sunny optimism," Misha agreed. "Now what?"

"Maybe more stretches, then bed?"

"What's your level?"

Jared considered. "Down to Serrano," he said, rather surprised at how quickly his pain levels were dropping. 90% down from the worst. He checked the clock, astonished to see that midnight was long past. Only twelve hours to go and physically all that was left was a not-entirely-unpleasant burn. He was pretty sure he could sleep on his back if he wanted to.

"Okay, now this one's a little tricky...." Misha launched into demonstrating the next pose and Jared tried to focus his attention solely on getting his balance right. He still couldn't believe that it had been twelve hours since he'd left Jensen's office. Time always flowed differently around Misha Collins, but usually more toward slow than fast.

After the second round of yoga, Jared found that he was sleepy again. Misha himself seemed to be pretty alert, but waved him off to bed.

"You know you don't need to entertain me constantly," he reminded Jared.

"Yeah, yeah, you possess untold depths of inner resources."

"And you possess this 'Betty Pledges to...' double graphic novel. I've always been curious about what would happen if Betty pledged to either Archie or Veronica; now I can find the answers to both questions at once."

Jared laughed. "You haven't even thought of the Riverdale Crowd since you were ten, have you?"

"No," Misha admitted. "But I was drawn to its bright red binding, like a beacon of a simpler time on your shelf. Now I must know."

"And I must sleep," Jared said, and went to get ready for bed.

Once he was in bed, now fine with sleeping on his back, Jared took a few moments to reflect. After months of noticing Jensen from afar, things had moved pretty quickly in just a few days. He still didn't know how he felt about the...what had it been? Twenty minutes? Not long, anyway, for Jensen to administer his punishment, and most of that time had been spent going over the formal complaint, waiting for Jared to pull himself together, and reading that uplifting letter from the residents.

And what about the punishment itself? It had been deeply unsexy, and yet....

Jared moved around in bed, kind of enjoying the changing pressure on his ass. Jensen's approach had been thorough, fast and professional. He'd made it a point to refer to Jared by his full name as much as he could, only calling him "Sub Padalecki" a couple of times and probably only then because of some kind of legal protocol. He'd been straightforward about the whole thing and Jared felt like if he'd been doing that to a dom who'd needed a corporate corporal, his demeanor would've been pretty much the same.

But...Jared didn't know if it was the air of authority Jensen carried as a lawyer, as a certified (if not frequent) provider of legal punishment, or simply as himself, but Jared had definitely responded to it. He'd felt reassured and in good hands, like Jensen and his team were the All State Insurance of beating people's asses. At the time, Jared had been focused on coping with a new situation, nervous about the proceeding and then most of his brain had been engaged in processing the pain. Since there'd been no warm-up, thanks to Jared's high Masochism Index Level, Jensen hadn't really handled him much; the direct contact had been with the belt and the cane, not Jensen's hands.

Jared couldn't help but wonder, as he had been ever since Jensen had agreed to help him out with getting his corporate corporal taken care of, what it would be like for Jensen to beat his ass because they both wanted it like that. Had chosen to express that aspect of their sexuality together. His fantasies began to run riot. Would Jensen want him in a cage again, to get Jared to focus most fully on the pain? Would he demand that Jared strip while Jensen himself remained fully clothed?

Jared moaned softly, getting more and more aroused by his own thoughts. Intellectually, he hated the stuff he'd learned about from the bad old days, back when doms frequently paraded their subs around, naked and leashed, everywhere they went. That tradition had started to go out when Sub Queen Victoria married her dom prince, because of the "dignity of the monarchy," and the proliferation of photography had helped kill it even further. But there were still people who practiced that in their own homes, or at special events.

Jared wondered if that was Jensen's thing. He hadn't done anything to indicate he was traditional like that, quite the opposite in fact, but Jared really only knew him as an attorney. How he was, what he liked, in a relationship, could be a different matter altogether. If he wanted things Jared didn't especially like, how much would Jared compromise? If he was a disciplinarian who liked to punish his subs for things they really did wrong, Jared knew he wouldn't tolerate that.

But if he was an exhibitionist, wanting to show his sub off for a select group of people....

Jared had never really thought about that custom beyond being glad he was born too late to have to worry about it much. But what if Jensen wanted him naked and leashed at a party? Jared pictured it: a room full of doms in fancy dress, their subs wearing only jewelry and leashes. He could see Ms. Harris in a floor length black gown, sipping champagne and giving all the subs appraising glances. Osric was next to her in a stylish dinner jacket, Jensen nearby holding a simple but elegant black leather leash leading to a similarly designed collar that was wrapped around Jared's neck....

Jared groaned more loudly. Part of him liked the idea a lot. Being led around by Jensen, maybe even being hand fed by him....

Jared stroked himself gently. Okay, if Jensen wanted that, Jared wouldn't be so much compromising as volunteering for it. He let the fantasy go further, letting some part of his brain he rarely allowed a voice to dictate where things would go next. Jensen drew him off to a corner of the room and had him put on a cock cage.

"You like this," Jensen said to him, softly and approvingly. "And I like that you like this, but they don't get to see this. But don't worry, this comes off as soon as we get home and then it's just us and you'll be all mine." And then Jensen drew him back to the party, pulling him from one group of people to another, talking about cases, sports...whatever people talked about at lawyer parties. And Jared stood there the whole time, wanting to look good, wanting to be Jensen's fucking leash candy, and wondering what, exactly, would happen when they got home.

In his bed, Jared wasn't wearing a cage, and he was taking full advantage of that, his hand moving faster on his shaft while he used his other hand to manipulate his balls, squeezing them tight, tighter than most men would. In his fantasy, they were driving home, Jensen watching the road intently, not even looking at Jared while he told him what was going to happen when they got home.

"Did you see the way they all looked at you? They wanted your leash in their hands, and they can just keep wanting because I'm the one you've chosen to submit to. They all want to know what I'm gonna do with you. You wanna know, too, don't you? Well, soon as we're in the door, you're bending over," Jensen was telling him, his voice soft and assured, dominant without being loud. "I think I'll have you grip the edge of the entryway table, just inside my front door, your magnificent back right there for me to mark. You'll still be in your cage, but not for long, I don't think. Just long enough for me take off my belt, stroke you with it, hit you with it, until I know you're ready for more."

Before Jared's brain got around to figuring out what Jensen's idea of more might be, before it even got around to imagining how the leather of Jensen's belt would feel gliding over his back, Jared came with a loud gasp.

"God," Jared said as he rode the aftershocks. Leashes and collars and being on display had never been a fantasy of his, but it was now his new favorite. Jared didn't especially want to move, but he got his act together enough to clean himself up. The clock told him he now had to wait less than ten hours. Jared dearly hoped he'd be asleep for most of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Betty Pledges to..." is based on an our-universe graphic novel, "Archie Marries..." which is a double publication; one side follows the story when Archie marries Veronica, while the other follows what happens when Archie marries Betty. I figured that in this universe, the love triangle among those three is based on doms Archie and Veronica in competition for Betty's affections. It isn't a perfect fit, but it's what I went with.


	7. Just about There

Despite the four-hour nap that had broken up Jared's busy Friday, Jared, having fallen asleep at half-past three Saturday morning, woke up to find he'd gotten in a solid seven hours. He rolled around in his bed, noting that his ass was holding steady at Serrano, or in not-chili-pepper terms, not that bad at all, while also taking delight in knowing that he only had three hours to go.

He didn't quite bound out of bed, but he was pretty cheerful as he showered, brushed his teeth and emerged into the living room. Misha was sound asleep on the pile of pillows in front of Jared's wall of windows, one hand curled protectively around "Betty Pledges to...." Jared wondered how far he'd gotten with it.

He and Misha had walked the dogs one last time somewhere around one a.m., but they were clearly ready to go out again. Even Zucchini had an eager look as Jared scooped up his keys and called them to heel. He leashed them, blushing as he thought about what he'd fantasized the night before. Dogs were dogs and people were people, but he still couldn't stop himself from thinking about Jensen leading Jared around in front of all kinds of well-dressed, approving doms.

While he was outside, waiting for Cardy and Zucchini to attend to their own matters, he tried to analyze his fantasy in the cold light of day. He supposed he should be ashamed of himself or embarrassed or worried that he was turning into exactly the kind of sub he'd never wanted to be, but Jared couldn't quite get any part of his brain to shame himself for having found some new kinks.

It wasn't like he wanted Jensen to just walk him down the street, naked and leashed. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to act out his fantasy of being at a swanky party, naked and leashed. He sure liked the fantasy, though, and if Jensen wanted it....

Well, that was where things started to get problematic, Jared thought. If Jensen wanted it because he wanted to display Jared like his property, bought and paid for, that was not at all something Jared was on board with. But if Jensen wanted it because he thought it would be hot and because Jared thought it would be hot and they both knew it was just for that, that would be okay. Great, even.

"You don't even know if any of that is a thing he's remotely into," Jared reminded himself out loud. He didn't know any of the things Jensen was into sexually, no matter how many fevered imaginings Jared's brain wanted to suggest as possibilities. He knew that, non-sexually, Jensen was into high rise views, food, particularly appetizers, craft beers, "Wonder Sub," and treating Jared with respect.

Which was a hell of a lot more than he'd known about Jensen at the start of the week. Then he'd known his last name, first initial, apartment number and that J. Ackles, 12G, always looked vaguely pleased and approving when he saw Jared with his dogs.

"Stop getting ahead of yourself, Padalecki," Jared warned himself as he gathered the dogs and took them inside.

Misha had woken up while Jared had walked the dogs and even brewed coffee.

"Eggs Florentine?" Jared asked.

"Are you sure you're a nutritionist?" Misha squinted at Jared. "And yes, please and thank you."

"I serve it with spinach instead of Canadian bacon, not in addition to," Jared said defensively as he started gathering ingredients.

"How's the ass?"

"Holding steady," Jared reported. "Slept on my back and everything."

"And the countdown?"

"Two and a half hours," Jared said without even looking at the stove clock.

"Nice," Misha said as he poured coffee for both of them.

"Two and a half hours until the next countdown starts," Jared amended.

"Another one?"

"Yeah. I've been assuming that he'll just beat a path to my door come one thirty, but maybe not. Maybe it isn't as big a deal to him as it is to me."

"Oh, come on," Misha protested. "Even if he's not totally pining over you, which according to your own account, Ms. Harris and Osric pretty much said he was, he's gotta be concerned on a professional level."

"There is that," Jared admitted as he whisked. "Especially since he doesn't usually do this sort of thing; he'll at least want to know he did it right."

"There's your optimism!" Misha exclaimed triumphantly. "I knew it couldn't have gone too far. Now let it out even more!" Misha made an expansive gesture, presumable directed at Jared's optimism, made all the more spectacular by the handful of spinach Misha was clutching.

"He went to considerable trouble and effort to help me out." Jared ducked under the spinach Misha was still waving around so he could move his sauce away from the stove. "And talked Ms. Harris into it as well. That's not just being neighborly." Jared started adding clarified butter from his ready-made supply. "Just being neighborly would've been referring me to the most trustworthy service he could think of that was economical or offered decent financing."

"He's warm for your form," Misha said as he pulled English muffins from the toaster.

Jared stared at Misha. "Did you get that from 'Betty Pledges to...'?"

"Probably," Misha said. "I was really into it, and then I fell asleep and then I dreamed about all three of them and me, in an array of delightful configurations."

"Let me guess, you think Archie is a switch," Jared teased.

"Clearly. Even you can see it, my heterodynamic friend," Misha said happily. Jared thought about that while he finished prepping brunch. He wasn't sure he'd heard the term "heterodynamic" before. He remembered that "hetero" meant "different," like David Bowie's heterochromatic eyes. So...heterodynamic must mean someone who was into people with the opposite dynamic. Which, until he'd met Misha and had his horizons expanded, Jared would've assumed everyone was. Misha was a switch, but was there something beyond that? "Same" would be "homo," like homogenized milk. So was there something called "homodynamic?" People who only wanted to have sex with people who had the same dynamic as they did? Jared's mind boggled. How would that even work?

Whatever, he thought dismissively. It was an interesting thought experiment he'd file away for later. Right now he wanted to concentrate on brunch and Misha's company. Misha'd been his overnight guest and had spent the entire time fussing over Jared and Jared hadn't even asked Misha what was going on in his life.

As they ate brunch, Misha told Jared the latest; as usual, there was a hell of a lot of it. Jared wasn't sure how Misha could keep it all sorted out in his mind, but apparently he could. There was something about a skunk getting into his house, getting itself ensnared in macrame supplies which would now all have to be either replaced or made into skunk-specific pieces, and how one of his roommates, the one who worked for a medical marijuana dispensary, had introduced him to a PhD. student in sub history, Vicki, and how she was "totally domly, totally chill" and Misha was super into her. Jared wasn't sure what the skunk had to do with it, if anything, but Misha's stories didn't exactly follow a three-act structure. Or any kind of structure at all, really. Structure was not really Misha's thing. One day, Jared was sure, Misha would keep an entire group at Atlanta Pines in Tree pose for ten minutes and spend thirty seconds on Lotus.

Although Jared had resolved not to think about Jensen while he was concentrating on catching up with Misha's doings, he couldn't stop himself from contrasting his own agonizing over Jensen and whether or not he would call and when with Misha's relaxed attitude toward Vicki. Misha clearly liked her a lot, but there was no stress there.

Without Jared having to say anything, Misha intuited what he was thinking.

"You know, I read somewhere that in Hawai'i, before European colonization, they thought that the butterflies in the stomach feeling wasn't love but anxiety," Misha said. "I have no idea if that's really how they felt, but it's worth thinking about."

Jared mulled over Misha's words while Misha changed the subject, this time to a workplace incident relating to Misha's part-time job silk-screening T-shirts. One of his best customers had a range of interests which he liked to celebrate with T-shirts, and it usually fell to Misha to design them. This time, it involved a dream about a tentacle monster and a luxury motor yacht crewed by scantily clad subs floundering in the Tyrrhenian Sea.

Jared decided that he was anxious about the situation with Jensen but not about Jensen himself. Jensen qua Jensen didn't scare Jared; the inherent possibility of disappointment and heartbreak that came with dating scared Jared. Misha didn't have Jared's hang-ups, so he was able to appreciate being attracted to Vicki and the possibility of more to come without worrying about the whole thing going down in flames.

They took the dogs for one last walk before Misha left. Jared thanked him profusely for his help; Misha waved it off casually like giving up his Friday to listen to Jared being a tweenybopper had been the perfect cap to his week.

"The butterflies will go away," he promised Jared as he left. "And he will call."

Jared went back to his apartment and filled the tub to give the dogs a wash. He hoped Jensen was right on both counts.

"If I'm just anxious about the uncertainty," he told Zucchini as she lolled in the tub, "then once I know what's going on, no more butterflies." Zucchini, Jared figured, approved of no more butterflies. She was a dog who didn't like surprises or changes to her routine. She also liked bathtime; she seemed almost mournful once Jared toweled her off and suggested she find a nice warm patch of sun while he and Cardy wrecked the bathroom.

Cardy liked butterflies. Jared knew this for a fact; he'd seen his dog chase enough of them. Cardy would probably tell him he was lucky to have the butterflies right in his stomach where he could find them. Butterflies, Jared decided, weren't actually inherently bad. They'd been his friends in exams and job interviews, albeit annoying friends. They always paid him back, though. He stressed about the A, he got the A. He stressed about the job, he got the job. Jared figured this was probably magical thinking. He probably would've gotten the As and the jobs without getting all nervous about them, but somewhere along the line his brain had decided that worrying was good. Worrying worked.

It was also distracting.

Jared didn't have much more time for reflection; Cardy was making more escape attempts than usual, timing his moves to coincide with times of maximum bathtime slipperiness. Cardy didn't really hate the bathtub, Jared knew, he just considered it another game, like catching the Frisbee.

Eventually Cardy was clean and wandered off to see if he could get Zucchini interested in something. Jared cleaned up the bathroom, shaking his head at the sheer number of towels that had accumulated during the process. When his parents had come to Atlanta to help him pick the right condo to invest in, his dad had really stuck to his guns in insisting that Jared get a unit with its own washer and dryer. And he'd been right; Jared mentally thanked him as he loaded towels into the washer.

Having done that, Jared went to the kitchen to investigate the box Ms. Griffin had sent over. The "Wonder Sub" DVD set was right on top, carefully stored in a thick plastic zip-top freezer bag. It was a thing of wonder, a giant, colorful box holding three individual boxes, with Lyle Waggoner striking various poses in the iconic outfit on all the covers. Jared had to look long and hard before he finally found a small insert of Lynda Carter as Steph Trevor tucked in the corner of the back of the box for the first season; she was standing slightly behind Wonder Sub.

"That's right, the sub's the star of the show," Jared said. He didn't really remember the show all that well, but he remembered being thrilled by Lyle Waggoner's performance in the title role and thinking that Lynda Carter was hot. He wondered what he'd think of her, or more accurately her character, now that he was an adult. He hoped that it didn't turn out that Steph was an asshole dom.

He carefully put the DVDs aside to explore the rest of the box. It was the usual assortment of prepared food, ingredients and utensils that various vendors had dropped off or sent in over the last few weeks. Ms. Griffin had a habit of just tossing everything into the box and then handing it to Jared when it was full.

Jared picked up a spatula. It seemed sturdy and useful, but no different than the ones they already used. "What is this, the new 2018 model already?" Jared asked Cardy, who was standing in the door. "Don't know that I'm ready to trade in yet." He twirled the spatula around like it was some kind of martial arts accessory. "Mind you, it does handle well. Good balance." He smacked his thigh with it. Hard.

"Oh, yeah," he said. "This has a lot of possibilities, but I'm not sure I need it for the kitchen as such.

"Hey, what's up?" he added as Zucchini joined Cardy in the door. She cocked her head at him and looked a little disapproving; it was her "my routine has been ever so slightly disturbed" look. Jared got up and followed her back into the living room.

Zucchini had moved to stand next to a piece of paper on the floor, positioned as if someone had slid it under the door. It was folded in half with Jared's name written neatly in strong black ink on the side facing up. Jared looked at the clock. It was 1:34.

Jared just stared at the piece of paper for a few moments. He'd been expecting a call or a text or maybe an e-mail if Jensen turned out to be particularly old-school. But a hand-delivered, hand-written letter? This was downright old-fashioned. And, Jared decided instantly, incredibly sweet. If he and Jensen hadn't been neighbors, maybe it would've been stalkery, like Jensen was saying "I know where you live and, by the way, your building's security is shit." But Jensen already knew where he lived. So, to Jared's way of thinking, the paper was more like physical proof that Jensen was right there, down the hall, ready to help Jared if he needed anything.

Jared savored the moment before swooping down to pick it up. He unfolded it to read:

Dear Jared,

I hope you're doing well. If you need anything at all...walking the dogs, short on milk, post-proceeding anxiety, boredom, whatever...just come on over. If you read this in time and are feeling up for something to do, I've got the pool table booked for an hour starting at 6:30 (best I could do on a Saturday) and I'd love it if you'd join me.  
\--Jensen

Jared refrained from clutching Jared's invitation to his heart. Instead, he went over to his bookshelf to find a box of nice stationery he kept on hand just in case, then settled in at his dining table to write a brief but carefully handwritten reply.

Dear Jensen,

Thank you so much for your note! And the offer of assistance. I'm doing pretty well, so no worries there. And I'll definitely see you at 6:30 for pool.  
\--Jared

Jared was very proud of himself for not immediately rushing to throw himself on Jensen's doorstep even though he had an open invitation. But the truth was that he really didn't need any help and while he was eager to see Jensen, it had nothing whatsoever to do with Friday's proceeding and, now that Jensen had asked him out, he kind of wanted to start seeing Jensen as a date, however casual, rather than as a follow-up. It seemed like starting out as equal as sub and dom could get and a chance to get to know each other without as much weird post-punishment psychology tripping either of them up.

Jared slipped out and down to slide the letter under the door marked 12G. He did have a new countdown: slightly less than five hours until he'd see Jensen. And his butterflies were still with him, but substantially calmed and he knew he could spend the rest of the afternoon doing Saturday stuff and not be preoccupied with Jensen. Well, not completely preoccupied, anyway.


	8. A Friendly Game of Pool

The rest of Jared's afternoon passed quickly and peacefully. He went for a swim, then took the dogs out for a romp because what was a clean dog for if not to get dirty again? By then his new countdown was down to two and a half hours, which Jared used to get productive with his box of products. There was a cheap plastic device that was supposed to work like an egg slicer but for bananas; it might've had some use for the residents who liked sliced bananas on their cereal but didn't do so hot with knives, but it was cheaply made, shaped for some generic banana that was nothing like any of the bananas Jared had in his kitchen and when he tried it, the banana did not so much slice as...mush.

Jared set it aside to send to Alona who, despite getting three with a cane from Professor Ferris, their industrial design professor, for her late paper, had majored in that very subject and was now in household appliance product development at QVC. Occasionally, she'd send him stuff people were trying to get on the air, some of it pretty good, most of it laughably bad. There had been a tea infuser that was cleverly designed to keep dried leaves fresh until it was ready to be used, then laid easily on top of a mug and removed just as easily, specifically made with people with arthritis or other hand pain in mind. Mrs. Iskander loved that thing like it was a long-lost friend; when she first used it, it was the first time in over a decade she'd been able to brew her own tea.

The banana slicer, though, was absolute crap and Alona would crack up.

Most of the rest of it wasn't as entertaining. The fruit-flavored Splenda packets weren't to Jared's taste, but were worth taking to his focus group, an assortment of residents who liked to try out new stuff and give Jared their opinions on it. As usual, the bulk of the box was full of snack and meal-replacement bars. Jared carefully read the ingredient information on each product, rejecting two out of hand. "Do they not realize we're a retirement home?" he asked Zucchini. "Do they really want us to give this shit to older people?"

He had his doubts that those particular bars should be eaten by anyone at all, but he himself was kind of hungry so he tried something that had lots of peanut butter in it. It wasn't bad, but it sure wasn't good enough to justify the nutritional compromises it was demanding of consumers.

He'd evaluated more than half the box by the time six o'clock came around. At work, it usually took him at least a week to get through one of these boxes, what with constant interruptions. Jared wasn't sure he wanted to start bringing his work home with him on the regular, but this was pretty efficient.

And had taken his mind off his date; he had thought of his upcoming date a few times all afternoon, but they were fleeting thoughts like, "Woo-hoo, I have a date tonight! With Jensen!" rather than lengthy interior monologues about What It All Means. He'd been wearing his tightest jeans, too, because he liked the way they felt against his still-somewhat-sore ass. But he changed into something a little less obvious, more for ease of movement around the pool table than for modesty's sake. Jensen had seen his bare ass already and needed no previews of coming attractions.

Jared reached for a fleece long-sleeved button down in dark green to put on over a plain white T-shirt; it was flattering, comfortable and warm, which was a major consideration since the pool table was in an overly-air conditioned room. As he got going, Jared knew from past experience, he'd warm up on his own but those first few minutes could be mighty chilly and, in general, he'd had one too many doms interpret his nipples' natural reaction to a cold room as something entirely different. Several had commented, a couple had gotten grabby.

Jared put that out of his mind. If there was a good time to dwell on past unpleasant social situations, less than half an hour before his date with Jensen wasn't it.

He decided to skip makeup; that was for work and family social occasions. He wanted to impress Jensen, but more than anything he wanted Jensen to be impressed by him as he was.

He got to the pool room right at 6:30; Jensen was waiting outside, wearing blue jeans like Jared's: not too tight, but definitely not so baggy that Jared couldn't appreciate what they were covering up. Jensen had on black long sleeved T-shirt and no shyness at all about a tight fit on that particular garment. Underneath the suits Jared had always seen Jensen wearing, Jensen had some impressive muscle definition. Jared was appreciative.

Jensen had opted for makeup, but it wasn't the same as his office look. No foundation; Jared could see that Jensen had some damn nice freckles that he evened out for the office. His hint of eyeliner was consistent with what he'd worn on Friday (same as Ms. Harris and Osric), but he'd gone for a fair amount more mascara which really brought out his eyes. He'd worn a fairly severe lipstain on Friday (again, a look shared by his colleagues; maybe it was company dress code); tonight he just had on a faint sheen of shimmer lip balm. Jared wasn't sure if it had any pigment or if Jensen's lips were just naturally a delectable shade of pink.

"I brought beer," Jared blurted out, extending a six pack. Jensen blinked and looked down at the beer. Jared mentally castigated himself. Smooth he was not.

"That's...my beer," Jensen said slowly.

"Well, most of it. From when you came over on Wednesday. I replaced the bottles we already drank."

Before Jensen could answer, the group of doms who'd been using the pool room tumbled out, shouting "Woo" and variations thereof. One of them seemed a little more subdued. "Bachelor party," he said to Jensen, not even looking at Jared. "Hope we didn't go over."

"It's good," Jensen said easily. "You're the designated?"

"Yep," the dom said. "It's like herding cats." He sighed heavily, nodded vaguely at Jared, and trudged after his charges.

So...not being dom-to-dom rude to Jared, just really preoccupied. Jared mentally shook himself. Was he always going to assume that the way people treated him had to do with his being a sub rather than their own concerns and preoccupations? As he and Jensen went into the pool room he concluded that all signs pointed to yes on that score. He wasn't sure if that was a chip on his shoulder or just a natural reaction to years of personal experience and the weight of history.

He set the beer on a side table and went over to rack the balls. Jensen watched him.

"You've for sure done this before," Jensen said as Jared deftly got solids in the corners and positioned the rack before pulling it away to leave behind a perfect triangle of balls.

"Pool table in the sub house at college," Jared said absently. "Spent a lot of time there."

"Oh, man," Jensen said with mock resignation. "Here I thought I was going to teach you something new."

Jared blushed and, thinking of the new kinks his late night fantasizing had shown him, he refrained from saying, "You already have."

Instead, he selected a cue and chalked it; Jensen did the same.

"Wanna break?" Jensen offered. Only if you're there to put me back together again, Jared thought as he nodded his acceptance, setting the cue ball on the table.

"I suppose there's a joke here about spending a lot of time in the kitchen and being a nutritionist. But I'm guessing you've heard that one."

"Quite a bit," Jared said. "And I suppose there's a joke about our first date being the two of us playing a stick-ball-hole game one on one."

Jared was astonished at himself. That was easily the most suggestive and raunchy thing he'd ever said to a dom, on a date or otherwise.

Jensen just laughed easily. "There's always golf for a second date," he said. Jared just smiled and concentrated on an easy break which distributed the balls nicely around the table. Perfectly legal and perfectly safe.

Jensen examined the table intently. Jared tried not to think of all that concentration being directed at him.

"Four into the obvious," Jensen called his shot and sank it, giving Jared a chance to admire his stance. Jared liked to keep himself pretty loose, but Jared seemed to favor precision. His grip was loose on the cue and his elbow relaxed as he lined his short, but the abrupt snap on his right elbow as he finished his shot was...evocative. Jared remembered that first snap of the belt on his ass and how sharp and immediate the pain had been.

Pay attention, Padalecki, he told himself sharply. Jensen had used a hard stop and made his shot. Jared settled in; Jensen obviously knew what he was doing as he walked around the table, his movements vaguely predatory, picking his next shot. It might be awhile, but he was sure Jensen would make a mistake. There was something about him that wasn't completely confident, and while confidence alone wouldn't win a game, the lack of it could lose it.

It came on his third shot; Jensen tried a bank shot that was so bad Jared wondered if the man had managed to get through college without taking a single class in which geometry was mentioned.

Jensen backed ruefully away from the table. "All yours," he said and moved toward the beer.

Jared didn't try anything fancy and sank three balls in a row before putting too much pressure on the cue and the thirteen ball made a leap for freedom.

"Damnit," Jared exclaimed as Jensen retrieved it with a smirk.

The game continued with very little talk. Jared was getting more nervous. Shouldn't they be talking? Or not? He didn't normally talk a lot while playing pool with a new person, but there was a herd of elephants in the room and Jared wasn't sure how to deal with them.

Jensen eventually won as Jared started making more stupid mistakes and they stepped back to sip their beers.

"Okay," Jensen said. "You're obviously a much better player than I am, but you're holding back."

Jared blushed. It was a kind interpretation of the dumbass stunts Jared had pulled on his last couple of turns.

"And?" Jensen said, catching Jared's eyes before adding, softly but intently, "I don't ever want you to hold out on me, Jared."

Jared shivered and it had nothing to do with the room temperature.

"Rack 'em," he told Jensen. Jensen held eye contact for just a second more, then turned back to the table.

"I'll break again, if it's all the same to you," Jared said and Jensen nodded.

Jared carefully placed the ball in the kitchen and quickly broke, sinking the eight ball and winning the game.

"Still want me not to hold out?" Jared asked without looking up. Jensen was making odd noises, so Jared peeked at him.

Jensen was laughing around a mouthful of beer. He managed to swallow it and shook his head.

"Never, Jared Padalecki," he said, still grinning. Damn, that was one nice smile Jensen Ackles had on him. And it was all directed at Jared.

"So maybe this can turn into a lesson?" Jensen asked. Jared nodded. He knew he was a good teacher and, grabbing the chalk, he proceeded to spend forty-five minutes explaining bank shots to Jensen, who nodded frequently and got better at it, although he was still not as confident as Jared would've liked him to be.

Their time in the pool room up, they took their remaining beers outside, wandering off to the green lawn between the building and the woods, flopping down on the grass.

"That was fun," Jared said. It was true, but he also was made nervous by silence when they had so much they needed to say.

"And educational," Jensen agreed. He picked at the label on his beer bottle. "How've you been doing?" Jensen posed the question casually but Jared knew it was anything but.

"Actually pretty good," Jared said. "Physically, my ass is at Serrano."

"Those are fairly mild, right?" Jensen asked without needing any general explanation.

"Yeah. About 90% of where I was when I left your office," Jared said.

"Good," Jensen said and sipped his beer. "I mean, not that I'm glad your ass was in that much pain to begin with, but that you're recovering nicely."

Jared shrugged. "It was your job and you and your team did it well. Once Osric got me home, I crashed for about four hours. When I woke up, my friend Misha was there and we walked the dogs, talked, ate, all that stuff, then I slept another seven hours or so."

"Inasmuch as I slept, it was at my office," Jensen said. "Not the first time for that, but it was the first time I did it because I was afraid to go home. I, uh, really wanted to be with you. I mean, just around you. Make sure you were okay. That you weren't mad at me."

"Why would I be mad at you? You helped me out."

"I beat your ass."

"See above re: doing your job," Jared countered.

"See the thing is," Jensen said quietly, not looking at Jared, his next words coming rapidly. "I'm a seven point five for sadism. I wanted to hurt you. I want to hurt you. But not because your employer needed it done to enforce workplace standards. Because I like hurting people who like to be hurt and you like being hurt and you're exactly my type and...." Jensen seemed to have run out of words.

"I want you to hurt me," Jared said. "I really want that a lot. And other things, too."

"Other things?" Jensen asked, finally looking at Jared.

"Yeah," Jared breathed the word out. "I'm not even sure what they all are yet. But I want you to hurt me and, right now, I really want you to kiss me."

"Really?" Jensen asked.

"Yes."

Jared leaned over to kiss Jared, moving slowly, giving Jared every opportunity to pull away if he wanted to. Jared very much did not want to. Instead he catalogued everything about the moment: the smell of the grass, the feel of the air around him, the faint smell of beer on Jensen's breath...all of it leading up to the soft brush of Jensen's lips against his. No demanding or commanding, just the sweet feel of Jensen's mouth on his.

Jared moaned low in his throat, trying to encourage Jensen to go further. Jensen apparently understood, setting his beer down without breaking contact, grabbing Jared's shirt to, oh, God, hold him in place while Jensen's tongue pressed against Jared's lips. Jared sighed as he let his mouth fall open, giving Jensen permission.

Jensen took it, took Jared's mouth, his tongue dipping into Jared's mouth with the demand and command that he hadn't brought to their first kiss. Jared nearly melted on the spot, only Jensen's firm grasp on his shirt keeping him from sinking fully onto the grass. He moaned again and Jensen pulled back.

"Is this okay?" Jensen asked. Of course that was how life worked, Jared thought dimly. The one dom who asked for permission was the one dom Jared had no inclination to say no to. Still, the asking, the checking in, was in itself sexy as fuck.

"You said you wanted to hurt me," Jared said breathlessly. "That you want to kiss me and hurt me."

Jensen closed his eyes briefly. "Oh, Jared Padalecki," he sighed and pulled Jared to him for another kiss. Jared easily relaxed into it, pushing his tongue against Jensen's. Kissing like this was amazing. Jared had always liked it, at least with doms he liked, and he wanted more of this as well as more of....

Suddenly, Jared felt a strong, sharp pain on the soft skin of the inside of right forearm. Oh, God, Jensen was using his free hand to pinch Jared. Hard. Jared's cock, already pretty interested in what was going on, jumped at the new feeling.

Jensen pulled back again, releasing the pinch but not Jared's shirt.

"You like that?" he asked.

"You have no idea," Jared said.

Jensen smiled, showing his teeth. "You might be surprised," he told Jared.

Jared wasn't really up to mentally processing anything beyond sensation at that particular moment. "More?" he asked hopefully.

Jensen shook his head. "Bad idea right now," he said. Jared tried very hard not to pout. "I just...I'm still a little confused from Friday. I have all these feelings I'm not sure what to do with, but the main one is that I want to protect you."

Jared glanced down at where Jensen was still clasping his shirt. Jensen's eyes followed his and he looked sheepish as he carefully released the cloth.

"And I'm worried that I most need to protect you from myself."

Jared started to protest, then checked himself. As much as he'd been on a roller coaster for the last few days, Jensen had been on a parallel track. Jared had talked to Misha about what he was going through, but Jensen? Jared wasn't sure. Not like Jensen didn't have friends to confide in, Jared assumed, but doms were notorious for not being terribly open about their feelings and it sounded a little like Jensen had chosen to bury himself in work instead.

"We could just sit for awhile," Jared suggested.

Jensen nodded and the rearranged themselves until they were sitting side by side, a foot apart, watching the sun as it dipped behind the trees. The elephants were still there, but Jared wasn't nervous about them anymore. He wasn't really nervous about anything, he realized. This moment felt right. Comfortable enough that Jared decided that fortune favored the bold, and reached out his hands to Jensen's.

Jensen took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other than occasionally handling a cue a couple of times in the distant past, everything I know about pool I learned from a ten minute YouTube video supplemented by Wikipedia. Now I want to play for real.
> 
> The area in which the cue ball is placed for the initial break is sometimes called the kitchen; in light of Jared's profession, I pretty much had to use that.


	9. The Relaxation of Jensen Ackles

As much as Jared might've wanted to just sit there forever, suspended in summer twilight, holding Jensen's hand and feeling more peaceful than he had in years, he knew that it wasn't possible. He glanced over at Jensen, who'd tilted his head back to watch the stars and planes and satellites become more visible as the sky grew darker. Jensen looked pretty peaceful, too.

Jared looked up at the sky himself. He felt Jensen's thumb brush lightly on his hand, just sweeping back and forth lazily. It was...nice. Not earth-shattering, but who said everything had to be? It was comforting without being condescending, reassuring without being cloying.

It was perfect. And perfection never lasts. But Jared was going to do his damndest to prolong it. Unfortunately, his stomach had other ideas, rumbling loudly in the quiet night. One nutritionally dodgy snack bar and a couple of beers weren't enough to keep Jared going for long

Jensen laughed at the sound, then confessed, "I'd been thinking I'd smoke you like a trout and then demand payment in the form of an immediate dinner date, but you took me to the School of Pool and I have no plan."

"I've got a pot of spaghetti sauce and some pizza dough in the fridge," Jared offered. "I've got cheese and the sauce already has hamburger, sausage and mushrooms in it. I should have some artichoke hearts. Sound like something you'd be into?"

"That sounds like something I'd very much be into," Jensen said.

"Plus, you know, I can't go back to work until Wednesday, so my boss lent me her 'Wonder Sub" DVDs."

"Lyle Waggoner?" Jensen sounded pretty excited at the prospect.

"The entire series," Jared confirmed. "I haven't seen it in forever and I never really watched it that closely."

"Me neither, but I remember kind of liking it."

"Wanna give it a shot?"

"Jared Padelecki, you have stepped in with excellent plans when my own resources failed me," Jensen said with mock solemnity. "I have some salad greens that are beginning to feel their age to contribute."

"Great!" Jared was surprised and pleased by how easy it was. It wasn't any more stressful than making plans with Misha. Less so, even, since Jensen was already on the premises and unlikely to get distracted by life's rich beauty and show up an hour late with a collection of dried leaves and found candy wrappers and several improbable tales to tell.

"I just have to walk the dogs first," Jared said.

"May I join you?"

"Course," Jared said, jumping up. "Why don't you stay here and guard the beers while I round up the kids?"

"Will do," said Jensen. Jared was glad. Jensen looked relaxed lounging on the grass and Jared wasn't sure how often Jensen really relaxed. Weren't lawyers supposed to be busy all the time? He'd said he sometimes slept in his office. Jared had only stayed over at Atlanta Pines when there'd been a bad storm and the power was iffy and the roads were terrible.

Jared didn't waste any time getting the dogs. Even Zucchini cooperated, not dragging her heels or stopping to primp or otherwise trying to put off the inevitable moment of having to go outside. Jared only paused long enough to grab a couple of bottles of water; he didn't know about Jensen but he definitely could not live by beer alone.

Jensen had barely moved while Jared was gone.

"Hey," he said when Cardy bounded up to him, followed by Jared and Zucchini. "Didn't catch your names, I'm afraid," he said apologetically to the dogs.

"Mr. Frisky there is Cardy, short for Cardamom. The more relaxed dog would be Zucchini Blossom, or just Zucchini."

"Nice to meet you," Jensen said, extending his hand. The dogs sniffed him and apparently recognized him from earlier in the week, going into exciting barks upon making his reacquaintance. "Beer?" Jensen offered, reaching for the depleted six-pack

"Nah," said Jared. "I'm ready for water. You?"

"Perfect," Jensen said, taking a final swallow of beer before accepting water from Jared.

The dogs hovered around for awhile, then apparently decided they had to make their own fun. Cardy bounced off to sniff some other dogs while Zucchini followed at a sedate pace.

"They gonna be okay?" Jensen asked as Jared flopped next to him.

"Oh, sure. They're really well-trained. I'm pretty sure Zucchini could actually get herself back into the building if the need arose."

Jensen just nodded. Jared tried not to frown. He was not a comfortable-silence kinda guy and he'd exhausted his meager supply of patience for that while they'd been watching the sunset.

"You know," Jared started. "Osric wanted to make sure that I had someone to talk to. Another sub. Because of all the emotional stuff with being punished and all. But what about you?"

Jensen laughed, but not like he found the question remotely funny. "In that situation, I wasn't supposed to have emotions on two levels: being a dom and being a lawyer dispensing a corporal."

"But you don't normally do corporal."

"No, I don't. I've only done it a few times for work and never in my personal life."

"Never?"

"Nope," Jensen said and drank some water. "I just...when I'm with someone. A sub. I'm not into punishing them. Anyone. I only like hurting people because they themselves like to be hurt. And I don't want to be in charge of someone else's behavior."

Jared liked what he was hearing for his own reasons, but it seemed like Jensen was kind of conflicted.

"That's good," Jared said.

"Not everyone thinks so. Most people don't. I've had relationships where people expected me to be some kind of twenty-four hour disciplinarian who'd micromanage their lives. And then when I wasn't like that, some of them would even do things just to provoke me into punishing them. And that's just not what I want out of a relationship. Not disciplining grown-ass adults and especially not being manipulated into it."

"Me neither," Jared said. "I mean, from the other side of the fence."

"I kinda got that vibe from you," Jensen said. "I mean, you copped to the problem at work as soon as you found out about it. You didn't need anyone to tell you what was wrong or why you should feel bad about it. The corporal was almost for form's sake, although your ass probably doesn't agree."

"Maybe it does," Jared said lightly, trying to inject a note of playfulness into their discussion. "That's why it's healing so quickly."

Jensen chuckled for real this time. "Like an old-fashioned trial by ordeal? 'Judge, this man's ass is in fine fettle for having been thoroughly beaten. Clearly, he is pure of heart'."

"Sure, why not?" Jared asked. "Centuries of wishful thinking could never have possibly led any society astray."

Jensen laughed again. "My god, some of the stuff I read about it in legal history classes was unbelievable."

"I nearly flunked every history class I ever took because I'd just get so pissed off about how they used to treat subs," Jared offered in sympathy.

"Let me guess...your idea of nearly flunking is getting a B-," Jensen teased.

"Something like that," Jared said. He'd never gotten anything below a B, but he'd had to seriously check his indignation at the door on more than one occasion.

"So that's my thing," Jensen said. "I didn't like doing the corporal, and I probably shouldn't have done it to someone I was already attracted to, but I really wanted to help you out. Not because I've kinda been checking you out since you moved in, but because once we actually talked, you seemed like a really nice guy, stuck in this weird little place where you couldn't get a fee-free or even sliding-scale corporal and I had the resources to help you out, but only if I administered the punishment myself."

"Thank you," Jared said sincerely. When he'd initially asked for Jensen's help, he'd had no idea how complex the whole thing was and now he was finding out that there'd been some personal cost to Jensen as well.

"See, that's weird. I want to date you because you're good-looking and fun and smart and funny and all that stuff, but here you are, thanking me for strapping and caning you over someone else's dumb-ass mistake."

"I was actually thanking you for helping me out," Jared said. "Not so much for the actual nature of the help."

But Jensen was on a roll. "Afterward, I felt terrible and I know, boo-hoo, I felt bad while you were physically hurting, but I just wanted to run after you and beg for your forgiveness and take care of you and make sure nothing bad happened and I couldn't."

"Hey, hey, it's all right," Jared said softly, laying his hand on Jensen's shoulder. "Sounds like maybe you should've made sure you had someone to talk to."

"That's a tall order. I mean, I have friends and everything, but I just wasn't expecting it would be as big a deal as it was. So I didn't call them, I just put in nineteen billable hours and tried to pretend like everything was fine."

"Nineteen billable hours in twenty-four hours by the clock? On top of your morning and...helping me?"

"Yeah. I haven't done that in years. Of course, about three years ago that wasn't too much above my average."

"Shit," Jared said. He jumped up and called the dogs. Zucchini, sensing that it was time to go back inside, loped over quickly while Cardy messed around on the grass. "Come on, Cardy, I mean it," Jensen said and Cardy minded.

"They really listen to you," Jensen said admiringly as he stood up.

"They're not the only ones," Jared replied. "We're getting you upstairs, we're getting you fed and then you're getting a massage."

"This is what it looks like when Jared Padalecki takes charge, then?" Jensen asked.

"Damn straight," Jared said. He'd just let it slip out; normally he was deferential and sneaky when he needed to take care of doms. Early childhood social conditioning, reinforced by working with people who really needed to be taken care of but mostly didn't like to acknowledge that fact, people who were furthermore disinclined to pay much heed to a young sub telling them what they should eat. Around Jensen, though, Jared somehow just didn't feel that weight. So far he'd been himself and Jensen seemed to like what he was seeing.

Less than half an hour later, Jensen was at Jared's door, holding a shopping bag he'd retrieved from his apartment. Jared waved him in to the kitchen, where he was preheating the oven. He'd already punched out the pizza dough and, after Jensen was set up at a chopping board with a knife and a big bowl to make the salad, Jared started drizzling oil on the dough.

"Do you have a thing about people slicing the lettuce instead of ripping it with their bare hands?" Jensen asked, as he started pulling out little heads of lettuce from a plastic box.

"I'd never have gotten anywhere in institutional cooking if I did," Jared said cheerfully. He pulled a bag of pre-grated cheeses from the freezer and frowned at it. It was way too orange and clearly his cheddar mix. He wondered why it wasn't labeled. He was usually conscientious about that, just from habit. He quickly found the Italian blend.

"With stainless steel now being a thing that exists in the world, tearing lettuce is really about showing off how much time you have. Or giving little kids something to do to help in the kitchen that doesn't involve sharp objects."

"I see," Jensen said and set to chopping. Jared noted approvingly that all four kinds of lettuce were dark colors: greens and reds. The darker the better, Jared had learned from his dad, and his nutritional science classes backed that up. Professor Gamble had once held up a wedge of iceberg lettuce and a glass of water and told the class that the latter was the better nutritional bet. She'd tended to use gaming metaphors a lot.

"Green onions okay?" Jensen asked once all the lettuce was bite-sized and in the bowl.

"Yes, please!" Jared exclaimed. Jensen gave him a flirty, if somewhat tired, smile and Jared turned back to the pizza to hide his sudden and thankfully fleeting blush. Yeah, he wanted to beg Jensen for a whole bunch of things at some point and apparently Jensen was into that. One more spice to put on his sexual fantasy shelf.

Jensen went on to add tomatoes and cucumbers and called it done. Jared approved and got the sauce on the pizza just as the timer dinged. He quickly whisked together a basic vinaigrette and ushered Jensen into the living room while the pizza baked.

"Did some rearranging, huh?" Jensen asked, looking at the pile of pillows in front of the windows where Jared's wing chairs had been the first time Jensen had visited.

"Misha did that. He's my friend who came to stay over last night." Jared was about to suggest returning the chairs to their rightful place when Jensen flopped out on the cushions. He had apparently not forgotten that he'd been promised a massage.

"Massage time," Jared told Jensen, who simply rolled over on his front in response. Jared settled on a cushion next to him and got to work.

Jared had done a weekend seminar on basic massage as part of his home ec requirements in "personal relationship development," or "how to cater to your dom." He remembered the instructor telling them that a massage could convey a lot of things, based simply on what the masseur was feeling. Jared figured what Jensen probably needed most was relaxation and reassurance, so he put that into the steady strokes of his hands on Jensen's back. His approach was a little scattershot; he didn't want to get in to a checklist mindset. So while he didn't totally flit from one muscle group to another, he also didn't work on Jensen like he was just a chart.

Nor did he ignore his own sensations. Jensen was strong and well-muscled and Jared certainly appreciated the feel of the healthy body under his hands, even through Jensen's tight, soft T-shirt. Keep it together, Padalecki, he cautioned himself. Just let him know you're here and you want him to relax.

Jensen hummed and sighed appreciatively. When he started making little almost-moans, Jared felt smug. Then Jared chose to feel even more smug when he realized that the almost-moans where too rhythmic to be anything but snores. Jared slowly eased up on his ministrations, not wanting to startle Jensen into wakefulness.

"Nineteen billable hours out of twenty-four," Jared muttered under his breath as we went to check on the pizza. "And everyone was so worried about my being emotionally vulnerable. I could probably wake him up, feed him and he'd be asking for my pledge in an hour."

Jensen snored on in the living room. Jared smiled. He wasn't about to manipulate Jensen like that. He'd never wanted to play those kinds of games and, with Jensen, he had a feeling he wouldn't need to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was little, I tore up so much lettuce and it was the boringest. When I learned that lettuce can be chopped with a knife, I felt so betrayed.


	10. Holding Hands

Jared was pulling the pizza out of the oven when he heard Jensen yell. He dropped the pan on the stove and rushed into the living room, tugging at his oven mitts, wondering what in God's name the racket was. If Cardy had jumped on Jensen and woken up, Jared would have to do some serious yelling of his own.

Jensen had rolled over on his back and was stretching and...oh, that hadn't been a yell. That had been a yawn. A really, really epic yawn.

"Dude!" Jared exclaimed. "I thought Cardy had attacked you."

Jensen looked sheepish and adorable. "I sometimes yawn really loudly. After a truly superior nap."

Jared melted a little inside. Jensen, stretched out on the pillows like a pasha, was a mouth-watering sight. Jared wanted to drop to his knees, crawl over and beg to serve.

"Uh, pizza's done," he said instead. Jensen gave him a smile that was nearly as satisfied as the one Jared imagined he would've gotten if he'd followed through on his first impulse. He swallowed and turned to go into the kitchen, his dick pretty excited by everything his eyes had seen over the last few seconds.

Jared got it together, barely, and Jensen joined him at the table for the salad and pizza. They talked a bit as they ate, Jared learning that Jensen's dad was a dom actor and his other dad a sub who kept house. And taught martial arts and self-defense to subs of all ages on the side. "Dude does not take crap," Jensen told Jared. Jared remembered the various subs who'd taught him self-defense over the years and could picture the type.

"Did you consider going into acting?" Jared asked Jensen.

"Nah. My dad makes a good living and always has, but I knew that acting and stability don't really go hand in hand. Not that my childhood was chaotic or anything, but I wanted to know what I was doing from year to year instead of week to week."

Jared told Jensen about Aunt Lucy and how she'd helped him negotiate with his arch-conservative mother. Jensen already knew about the automatic deposit from Jared's paycheck to his dowry fund; he didn't know that Jared's original dowry fund had been raided to pay for college.

"I had to major in home ec," Jared explained. "Because we were able to convince her that my having a degree in the domestic arts would be a kind of dowry in itself."

"Social capital?"

"Yeah; she thinks my career is just a placeholder job until I pledge myself."

"And your...dad?"

"Yeah, Dad. He mostly just leaves the room when it comes up. I think he maybe wanted a career at some point in his life. He always took good care of us, especially when we were sick and he reads a lot of books about medicine, novels and nonfiction. I think he would've made a good nurse."

"Hmm. That's traditionally been an approved career for a sub."

"No money for training. He knit sweaters to get my mom through business school. He could turn out a sweater in a week and sell it for about four hundred."

"Wow."

"But even that...." Jared trailed off.

"What?" Jensen encouraged him.

"Well, he's damn near an artist with yarn. But once Mom was making enough money, that stopped. Even before we were born. He taught neighborhood subs how to knit and he still makes stuff for the family, but that's it."

"Wait...is that his?" Jensen got up and went over to look at the variegated blue and green afghan draped on Jared's couch.

"Yeah," Jared said. He was proud of his dad's work but it always made him angry, too.

"It's beautiful," Jensen said, running his hands over the surface. "It not only looks like the ocean, it actually feels like waves and foam."

"I don't mind not having an ocean view," Jared joked, worried that things were getting too heavy. "I have that."

"It's really amazing," Jensen said almost absently, still stroking the afghan. "I can see why you're mad."

Jared blew out a breath. "Yeah, well, he's happy and everything. I don't know that I would've made different choices than he did."

"Yeah, you would've," Jensen said quietly. "But only because of what you learned from watching him and your mom." Jensen carefully placed the afghan back on the couch and returned to the table.

"I guess," Jared said in a way he hoped suggested that a change of subject was in order.

"Heavy going," Jensen acknowledged. "Sorry about that. Kind of slipped out."

"Story of my life," Jared said with a smile and the moment smoothed itself out.

They finished the pizza, trading college stories as they ate. Afterward, Jensen helped Jared clear off the table automatically, rinsing dishes and putting them in the dishwasher.

"So...'Wonder Sub'?" Jensen asked hopefully when they were done.

"Yeah," Jared agreed and quickly set up the DVD. He sat down next to Jensen on the couch and had just lifted the remote to select the pilot episode when Jensen suddenly leaned over and quickly kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks," Jensen said. "For dinner and the massage and everything."

"You're welcome," Jared said. For all that it was barely more than a peck, he still felt a shot of something that wasn't quite arousal but close enough to it.

"May I hold your hand?" Jensen asked. It was weirdly formal, Jared thought, considering that they'd already held hands down on the lawn, but he nodded his permission. Jensen put his left hand over Jared's and Jared started the episode.

"Goddamn, look at those colors," Jensen exclaimed as the title sequence flashed up on the screen.

Jared looked, but he was most conscious of the feel of Jensen's hand on his. It was warm and strong and reassuring. Nice.

Before long, though, the hand holding moved past nice. Jensen began by turning Jared's hand over and gently sweeping his thumb over Jared's palm. Such a simple action, but it felt incredibly erotic to Jared. He wondered dimly if Jensen was putting his own arousal into the act, precisely the opposite of what Jared had done when he'd given Jensen his massage.

Jared was barely paying attention to the show at all. Jensen had started by lightly scratching his thumbnail against Jared's skin, then quickly progressed to using his thumb to put on pressure that was damn close to bruising. Jared gasped and his eyes fluttered shut as he thought about all the strength Jensen had in his hand, centered on that one point of contact.

Jared was a strong man, possibly stronger than Jensen, but he felt weak just from what Jensen was doing to his palm. When Jensen pressed the edge of his sharply manicured nail against Jared's skin, digging it into the fleshy pad below his thumb, Jared moaned at the fierce delight of the pain.

"That's called the mount of Venus," Jensen said. Jared opened his eyes and saw that Jensen looked very serious and concentrated. Jared nodded at him, not really into the idea of stringing words together. Jensen increased the pressure and Jared began to squirm, embarrassed by how aroused he was but wanting more, so much more.

"Yours is very sensitive," Jensen said, his voice low and approving. "You're very responsive in general, Jared."

God, what was Jensen doing? Jared had no idea why Jensen's words were making him leak into his pants, but they were.

"Please," Jared said.

"Please what?" Jensen asked, his voice a mixture of playful and stern.

"Please, sir?" Jared guessed.

"Hmm," Jensen murmured thoughtfully. "Not exactly what I was looking for, but very nice. Very nice indeed. But what I really wanted to know, Jared Padalecki, was what you're begging me for."

"Please sir, may I have some more?" Jared said, trying to temper his pleading with mock pathos. Jensen chuckled.

"You have to give me permission, Jared," Jensen reminded him. Oh, right, Jared thought vaguely. Consent. It was a thing. Important to him. And, apparently, to Jensen.

"Please take my submission," Jared said. And was immediately embarrassed. Of all the ways he could've expressed consent, his brilliant brain had picked that one. "I give it freely," he added, trying to salvage some dignity from the situation.

"I accept it joyfully," Jensen said, turning toward Jared with a look of serious intent, and Jared knew he wasn't the only one who was having an old-fashioned moment.

Jensen lifted his hand to the back of Jared's neck, pulling him forward. Jared parted his lips in hopeful invitation. Jensen claimed his mouth, swiping his tongue across Jared's lower lip before pushing his way into Jared's mouth. It was exactly the kind of kiss Jared loved: hard and aggressive. He returned it fully, Jensen's dominant energy snapping him out of his passive haze.

Jared moaned when Jensen pulled back. "This good?" Jensen asked.

Jared floated back to a place calling itself reality long enough to check in with a quick "Green."

Jensen nodded. "Good, I'm glad. This is fun."

Fun? This was what Jensen called "fun?" Jared was certainly having a good time, maybe the best of his life, but "fun" wasn't exactly the word he would've chosen.

"So much fun," Jensen said and let go of Jared's neck to rest his hand possessively on Jared's cock.

"Oh, my god," Jared breathed. "I don't think...I might...."

"Tell me," Jensen instructed.

"I'm going to have to move, and if I do that...."

"You can move," Jensen permitted. "In fact, I insist that you move, right now."

Jared couldn't have disobeyed that command if he'd wanted to, and he really, really did not want to. He rutted against Jensen's hand while Jensen simply gave him steady pressure. As much as Jared would've liked to have felt Jensen's warm skin directly against his, the feeling of his own clothing rubbing against him was more than enough.

"Look at you," Jensen said.

"Yeah?" Jared gasped out, his conversational skills severely limited by then.

"You look...." Jensen broke off suddenly. Jared looked at Jensen, whose face was...shocked? Turned on? Jared couldn't tell what, exactly Jensen was feeling.

"What?" Jared asked, drawing on his formidable willpower to still his hips.

"Beautiful," Jensen breathed. "Just beautiful."

Jared had a feeling that wasn't what Jensen had originally been going to say, but what Jensen had said was clearly sincere and that was all Jared cared about. He started moving against Jensen's hand again.

"Do I need..." Jared started, his words choked off into a gasp when Jensen suddenly put more pressure against him. "Oh, god."

"What do you need, Jared?" Jensen asked, voice rough.

"To ask," Jared moaned. "Do I need to ask?"

"Not this time," Jensen said, sounding almost smug. "You just need to feel."

And Jared felt. He felt the inside of his clothing brushing on his bruised ass. He felt Jensen's palm on his cock through his jeans. He felt everything, all at once, and it was so good and perfect as he came.

"That was wonderful," Jensen said. Jared was gasping for air, riding aftershocks. Jensen moved his hand to Jared's thigh, letting it rest there with what Jared chose to interpret as "casual possessiveness."

"Just beautiful," Jensen added and Jared got a pretty strong aftershock from the praise.

"You?" he managed to croak out.

"Just...here" Jensen pulled Jared's hand to his crotch. Jared explored as much as he could through Jensen's pants. Jensen was...wow. Really big and really really hard. Jared looked at Jensen's face, amazed at how composed and calm he looked. No way could Jared ever manage to look that elegant and serene if he'd been as close as he imagined Jensen must be.

"Yeah," Jensen breathed. On the other hand, Jensen's words seemed to have deserted him. Jared rubbed his hand against Jensen's crotch, not sure exactly what Jensen wanted or needed specifically, but figuring he'd just golden rule the situation and give Jensen what Jared himself usually liked: lots of enthusiastic pressure and fast movement.

"God, like that," Jensen called out, and now it was showing on his face, the beautiful desperation, the dominant surrendering to his submissive in the moment that leveled everyone.

"Jared," Jensen said as he came, his voice oddly quiet in the room. Jared gave him a second or two, then pulled his hand away. He leaned back against the couch, letting his own post-orgasmic languor overtake him. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Jensen lean back as well, looking as dazed and wonderful as Jared felt.

"What the hell was that?" Jensen asked in quiet happiness.

"You started it," Jared accused and they both started laughing.

"You finished it," Jensen said, which just made them both laugh even harder.

On the screen, Wonder Sub used his bracelets to deflect bullets. Jensen and Jared didn't notice and wouldn't have cared if they had.


	11. In-House Laundry Service

"That. Was amazing," Jared eventually told Jensen. They'd been sitting in mutual contentment for several minutes.

"Mmm," Jensen agreed. For someone who'd kept his vocabulary together as long as he had while aroused, Jensen was now kind of pre-verbal.

"Also, rather sticky," Jared said. Hardly a romantic observation, but the results of his passion were clinging to his body and the inside of his underwear like so much cooling tapioca. Sometimes acknowledging reality meant acknowledging grossness.

"Mmph," Jensen said, again in apparent agreement.

"So maybe we should clean up a bit?"

"You first," Jensen said. Jared grinned. That was definitely a fucked-out Jensen Ackles he had right there on his sofa.

Jared left said fucked-out Jensen Ackles to go into his bedroom. He quickly got out of his clothes, washed himself off in his en suite, enjoyed the mild burn of the antiseptic he put on his palm, and changed into sweats. He got an extra pair and a T-shirt, plus a damp washcloth, and took them out to Jensen.

"Time for clean clothes," he told the dom sacked out on his couch.

"We at Grandma's? Do I gotta put my shoes on?" Jensen asked sleepily. Jared laughed.

"Nope," he said. "Although we've definitely been over the river and through the woods."

Jensen stood up lazily and shucked his clothes off with no regard for personal modesty. Jared, being a human being, looked. Jensen's body looked exactly as good as it had felt under his hands. Jensen noticed him looking and preened ostentatiously. Jared tossed the washcloth at him and scooped up his clothes to throw them in the washer.

Jensen had put on the sweats and T-shirt by the time Jared returned and was back on the couch, but sitting up, looking a bit more alert. Jared joined him.

"That was really terrific," Jensen said. Jared knew there was a "but" chasing that statement. "But kind of abrupt," Jensen added.

"Yeah," Jared said, "but I have no regrets."

"Me neither," Jensen assured him. "But we should probably, you know, talk."

"Yeah," Jared agreed.

They sat in silence for several minutes.

"You start," Jared finally said.

"Right," Jensen sighed. "Time to be a Responsible Dom."

Jared waited.

"The thing is," Jensen started. Jared waited some more. "I usually negotiate," Jensen finally completed his thought.

"I hear it's the done thing," Jared said.

"It's just...you know how I said that when I'm with someone, I don't want to punish them?"

"Right," said Jared. Again, he sensed the "but" and it was making him nervous.

"I don't. That's not my thing at all, disciplining my partners. But...."

"Go on," Jared said softly. He wanted to say something like "it's all okay" but he had no way of knowing if that was true.

"But when I'm having sex, I get very dominant."

"I noticed," Jared said approvingly. Jensen blushed.

"I like my partners to be independent, like you," Jensen said. "Except...not during sex."

"Okay," Jared said, somewhat mystified. As far as Jared was concerned, that was how it was supposed to work: doms took charge during sex and subs liked it that way.

"I almost said things that might've crossed a line."

"But you didn't," Jared pointed out, remembering the moment Jensen had told him he was beautiful, clearly meaning it, but he'd also been covering for something he'd almost said instead.

"I get...." Jensen was fumbling around again. "I say stuff that's not cool. Stuff about putting people in their place. And what I think that place should be. But I only mean it for sex," Jensen blurted out, looking away from Jared.

"Oh," Jared almost laughed in relief but didn't because it was clear that Jensen was having a difficult time talking about this and could very easily misinterpret anything Jared said or did in response to his big confession.

Jensen took a moment, looking like he was steeling himself, and looked back at Jared.

"You're not...it doesn't bother you," he said.

"Nope. You try to 'put me in my place' any other time and you will be shown the door very quickly. But, during sex, my place is wherever you tell me it is."

Jensen just stared at Jared for a moment before slowly saying, "Jared Padalecki, you are a wonder and a delight."

"Jensen Ackles, you are a gentledom of rare qualities," Jared answered.

"And a gentledom always negotiates," Jensen pointed out. "So...what don't you like?"

"We've already discussed discipline and that's a no-go for both of us. But I do like being beaten for fun," Jared said. Might as well spell it all out even if some of it would be redundant.

"Right, and I can't wait to beat you for fun, but I'm not about to lay any licks on your ass until the on-behalf-of-Atlanta-Pines ones are completely gone. In fact, and please don't take this the wrong way, I don't even want to see those marks. Unless you need me to look at them for physical assistance."

"That won't be necessary," Jared assured Jensen.

"Okay, then. What about other kinds of pain? You liked it when I pinched you when we were making out in public." Jared blushed a little at the memory. "And you sure as hell liked what I did to your hand."

"I did indeed."

"How's it look?" Jared extended his palm to Jensen who inspected it carefully. "Bacitracin?"

"Done," Jared told him.

"Good. I should've been a little more on top of that," Jensen acknowledged. "Good to know you're on the ball."

"You barely had time," Jared said fairly. "I was up and changing while you were still floating on your little cloud."

"I do get a bit like that, afterward."

"It's cute. Sexy."

"Generally, not so hazy I skimp on aftercare."

"Don't worry about it. Things got a little rushed, there."

"God, I know," Jensen said ruefully. "Thank god we were on the same page."

"Speaking of pages," Jared said. "There's...okay, I don't like to insult people and this kind of comes close to that line, but I have to get it out there: never tie me up and leave me alone."

"God no!" Jensen exclaimed, shocked and obviously kind of offended that Jared felt that he had to spell that one out.

"It's just...that happened. Freshman year, I went to a rope workshop and some dom tied my lower leg to my thigh and then said he needed to get some water and left the room and didn't come back for like five minutes."

"What an asshole. Were you okay?" Any offense Jensen had been feeling was now clearly directed at the freshman dom.

"No," Jared said simply. "I wasn't. I tried to undo the tie after a couple of minutes but I couldn't get my hands to work and then I panicked and had to get another dom who was at the workshop to untie me. That was a bad way to find out that abandonment play is not my thing. I was seriously messed up for a couple of months over it."

"Shit," Jensen said. "What happened?"

Jared shrugged. "Most of the subs and doms were privately sympathetic and a few told the dom never to do that again. He later 'apologized' by telling me 'I'm not psychic; how was I supposed to know you were going to have a panic attack?' When I posted about it on Facebook, not using his name, a lot of people clucked about what an awful thing I'd gone through and a couple of doms told me not to stop smearing this guy's good name and one told me it was my own fault for being an incompetent sub in not knowing how to undo the tie."

"Okay, that's horseshit, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know that. But still, it was like a punch to the gut, reading that. It was almost worse than what actually happened. Before I posted it, though, I'd already realized I couldn't go back to any of the workshops because he went to them like it was his fucking job. I basically wanted people to know why I wasn't going to be around anymore. And exactly why."

"Wow. And he didn't get censured?"

"Not in any meaningful way. Like I said, apparently a few people told him he shouldn't have done that, but he obviously didn't get why. And I was the one who left that round of workshops and I never really go up the courage to go to any others."

"Clearly. He honestly thought the problem was that you panicked and not that he left you like that in the first place?"

"Yep."

"Okay," Jensen said, taking some deep breaths. "I'm...kind of having a dom moment here. And I know that's not helpful to you at all, but I just...." Jensen was clearly furious on Jared's behalf. "Sometimes," Jensen eventually said quietly, "I'm just really ashamed to be a dom."

"Hashtag not all doms," Jared pointed out.

"And I want to do the stereotypical domly thing where I find that guy and lay a righteous beatdown on him. Again, not helpful."

"As long as you don't actually do it."

"Of course not."

"That, incidentally, is why I no longer have a Facebook page. Or engage in social media at all."

"Wow, that really did a number on you. I'm really sorry that happened to you, Jared."

"I got counseling," Jared said. "It kind of helped. She said I'd be glad I made that post, but I never got there."

"This is just.... Okay, I know I expressed some rather violent thoughts just now, but I'd really like to hold you right now. Would that be okay?"

"More than," Jared said and let Jensen pull him into a hug. They stayed that way for a long time, just enjoying the connection.

Jared had never timed his washing machine. He figured he probably should at some point, but it wasn't like he had to worry about anyone waiting in line behind him. He figured it was probably about a half-hour, and minus however long they'd talked, that was how long their silent hug lasted.

"Gotta get the stuff in the dryer," Jared said when the spin cycle completed. Jensen made a little noise and let him go; Jared shifted the laundry and got them each a ginger ale.

"Nice," Jensen said appreciatively, taking a long sip. "I didn't realize how thirsty I was."

"I'm terrible at oral sex on men," Jared blurted out. He'd told Jensen his worst memory and Jensen had been reasonably okay about it. Jared felt more free than he had in years, like he could say anything at all and it really would be okay.

Jensen just sort of blinked at him. "I noticed you were starting to get tense while we were cuddling. Was that weighing on your mind?"

"Yeah," Jared confessed. "I really like doing it but I've never had much of a chance to practice."

"I think I can work with that," Jensen said. "What about receiving?"

Jared made a face. "Not really. I've had one too many doms who are sub allies as partners and they were all, 'When it comes to oral sex, I believe in reciprocity' and I'm all, 'Don't do me any favors' and then they're really bad at it, too, and the whole thing ends up not happening."

"When it comes to oral sex, I believe that I would very much like to put my mouth on your cock at some point if you'll let me," Jensen said. "I'll try to make it good for you."

"Oh. So...not an obligation?"

"No. For you or me."

"I want to be better at it. You know, in general. Not like a job skill," Jared blathered. "Because I liked it before, when I tried it, but nobody was very encouraging."

"Some day we'll have to get a bottle of Jack and match each other, bad date for bad date and bad relationship for bad relationship."

Jared was relieved that Jensen seemed to understand what Jared was talking about, especially since Jared wasn't sure that he himself really understood what he was talking about.

"What about you, what don't you like?" Jared asked.

"Knifeplay. My brother's in recovery from self-cutting."

"Shit," Jared breathed. "That must've been rough."

"Yeah. He's basically okay now, but it was not a good time for our family. Blood's okay if it's drawn from scratching," Jensen made a gesture toward Jared's hand. "But it's not the basic appeal."

"Level seven point five for sadism, right?"

"Excellent memory on you, Jared Padalecki."

"I really like it when you say my name like that."

"Good. It's getting to be a habit I would hate to have to break. What about anal?" Jared loved it that they were picking up on each other's conversational shifts.

"Oh, god, anal," Jared moaned.

"Is that...good, bad? What is that?"

"Okay, that is a thing I've never done is what that is. It's dumb, but I kinda consider myself a virgin because of that. And because I've never, you know, been inside a woman."

"Wow, it's like you're completely untouched," Jensen snarked, deadpan. "So...you've never tried anything anal?"

"Well, you know, I've tried. Stuff. With myself. By myself." Jared blushed.

Jensen closed his eyes. "Okay, that is just hot as fuck," he muttered as he took a moment to enjoy whatever he was seeing behind his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes to look at Jared.

"And what was the verdict on those explorations?"

"It makes me feel so submissive that I've never actually managed to top myself."

"I'm dying here," Jensen said very seriously. "I am dying because you are killing me and it will be very sad for me because I will have died right here in your living room before teaching you how to give me a perfect custom blowjob or watching you turn into a quivering wreck the very second I penetrated your desperately winking hole."

Jared laughed. "The only thing that's dying in here is the English language over the things we're making it do."

"I honestly can't decide if this is the best or worst conversation ever."

"So bad it's good?" Jared suggested.

"Yeah. Let's go with that," Jensen decided.

Jared laughed giddily. He couldn't believe how the conversation was going either. But he could believe that he'd fallen in love with Jensen Ackles. Could believe that like he believed the sun rose in the east.

"Did I help you lance a wound?" Jensen asked when Jared stopped giggling.

"Yeah. You really did."

"I'm glad," Jensen said simply. They shared a quiet moment that was broken when the dryer buzzed.

"Everything's clean and dry," Jared said, getting up to retrieve the load.

"I suppose that's my cue to get into my own clothes and leave," Jensen said mournfully.

"Smooth. Of course you can stay if you want. I shocked my mother by buying a king bed." Jared neatly folded their clothes. "You can put those on for your ten yard walk of shame tomorrow if you'd prefer."

"I'd very much prefer," Jensen said. Jared held out his hand to Jensen, who took it and squeezed it much harder than he needed to as he rose gracefully to his feet. Jared led him to his bed, pulling him down beside him before he turned out the light.

Jensen arranged himself into position to be the big spoon and Jared relaxed into his arms. As they were falling asleep, Jared wondered if something really could be as easy as this seemed when it was clearly worth so much more effort than he'd been asked to expend.


	12. Tasting Desire

They lay in silent darkness. Jared wasn't surprised that he didn't fall asleep right away; he was still buzzing from the extraordinary night he'd been having. But Jensen wasn't sleeping, either, despite his earlier post-orgasmic lassitude. For a long time, they didn't speak, just enjoying the feeling of being together, Jensen occasionally brushing his lips against Jared's back, kissing him through the fabric of his T-shirt. Jared returned each kiss to Jensen, lifting their joined hands to his mouth, sliding Jensen's knuckles over his closed lips.

"'S nice," Jensen said softly.

"'S paradise," Jared replied. Jensen laughed a little.

"You can't blame me for feeling amorous," Jensen sang softly.

"Are you?"

"A bit."

"Wanna do something about it?"

"Oh, maybe just a little," Jensen said after a moment's consideration. Jared smiled against Jensen's hand.

"Got anything in mind?"

"Well...."

"Don't hold out on me, Jensen Ackles," Jared said.

"Those words sound vaguely familiar. You trying to dom me?"

"Just being an encouraging sub," Jared said. Jensen snorted.

"Consider me encouraged," he told Jared. He licked the back of Jared's neck and Jared shivered.

"I want to mark you," Jensen said, his voice low and dark.

Jared turned his palm upward in Jensen's hand, letting Jensen's forefinger brush against the half-moon mark Jensen had made with his thumb.

"That was for you," Jensen said. "I want to mark you for me."

Jared moaned. This was the dominance and possessiveness he craved, had been craving for years. The same traits Jensen had been so afraid of confessing to.

"You moan a lot for me," Jensen observed. "I like that."

Jared obliged him without really thinking about it.

"Tell me," Jensen said. His words were commanding and his tone matched them, but Jared still heard Jensen's underlying questions.

Tell me this is all right. Tell me that you're okay with this. Tell me you'll let me do this with you.

"Please, sir," was all Jared said.

"Oh, Jared," Jensen sighed against the back of Jared's neck. "The things I want to do to you."

"Do them," Jared encouraged.

"Earlier, you very properly and politely asked me if you needed permission," Jensen said. Jared didn't remember that he'd been all that proper or polite, more like shaking and desperate, but perhaps the value was in the fact that he'd asked, not how prettily he'd done it.

"It showed you have good instincts, that you're eager to please me. Because you're such a beautifully submissive man." Jared's breath caught. No one had ever praised him this much during sex; he'd never had a chance to learn how much he liked it.

"But do you really understand the risks of asking that kind of question?" Jensen asked.

Jared bit his lip, which didn't prevent a small whine of desire and need from escaping him.

"I'd really like it if you answered me, Jared," Jensen said patiently.

"You might...say no," Jared said softly.

"And if I did?" Dimly, Jared realized that Jensen was stepping him through this, giving him out after out. He appreciated the gesture, but he didn't want out. Not from this.

"Your pleasure would be my pleasure, I guess," Jared said.

Jensen leaned forward, just a bit, breathing deeply to inhale the scent of Jared's shoulder. Goddamn, this dom was pushing buttons Jared didn't even know he had.

"That's right," Jensen whispered into Jared's ear. "That enough for you?"

"It would have to be," Jared said. Jensen squeezed his hand. Hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make Jared's cock twitch.

"I'm going to mark you, Jared Padalecki," Jensen said with confident authority. "And all you need to do is lie there and look pretty while I do it."

Jensen moved away from Jared; Jared's body wanted to follow but he knew that wasn't what Jensen wanted, so he waited until Jensen laid his hand on Jared's shoulder, then followed mute directions to roll onto his back.

"Take everything off," Jensen told him. Jared quickly wriggled out of his shirt and sweats and flopped back on the bed. Jensen knelt over him.

"Very nice," Jensen said, looking Jared up and down. Jared didn't pose, didn't do anything but lay still. He felt like he was being inspected, and while Jensen obviously approved of what he was seeing, the vague anxiety that Jared might come up short was, given how much he'd discovered he needed Jensen's praise, paradoxically arousing.

Jensen leaned over so he could run his hands along Jared's thighs. Despite his best intentions to be still for Jensen, Jared couldn't stop himself from shifting his hips hopefully.

Jensen laughed softly. "I don't think so. I'm just going to look at your gorgeous cock but not touch you there at all, because this is just for me and I don't want to make things too...difficult for you."

Jared exhaled. Jensen was really going to do it. He was going to do...something, whatever he wanted...to Jared and Jared wasn't going to get to come. And it was so unbearably exciting, this need to suppress his own desires and instincts because it was what Jensen wanted him to do, that Jared hoped he wouldn't fail.

Jensen took his hands off Jared's thighs and swung one leg over so he could kneel directly above Jared. Jensen reached up to cup the back of Jared's head, leaning forward to kiss him softly and sweetly. Jared kind of wanted another claiming, dominating kiss like he'd gotten on the couch, but he wasn't about to complain. It wasn't like he wasn't already feeling submissive enough as Jensen held his head, continuing to kiss him gently while he used his other hand to ease the pillow out from under Jared.

Jensen broke the kiss and lowered Jared's head to the mattress, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

"Just keep looking at me," Jensen told him. "Until I tell you not to." Jensen telling him not to was the only thing that could possibly have made Jared stop looking at that point. Jensen was so beautiful with all his concentration focused on Jared.

And Jared had guessed what was coming next, but it was still a shock when Jensen reached down to touch his own cock, briefly pressing it against his lower stomach before fully encircling himself, setting a fast pace as he stroked himself.

"So fuckin' beautiful," Jensen said. "Just look at you, waiting to take anything I give you and beg for more."

"Please," Jared said and Jensen moaned.

"God, that mouth. The things I'm gonna teach it to do for me," Jensen panted as he talked. "You're gonna love suckin' my cock, you'll be so good at it, because you...are...so...good." Jensen punctuated his last words with particularly harsh strokes. Jared wanted to feel that hand on his own cock, handling him roughly, but that wasn't going to happen, not tonight, and Jared moaned because he wanted it so much he was hurting, getting lost in a haze of needing to come but knowing he couldn't, that he wasn't allowed, that Jensen didn't want that from him, not tonight, and his mind and heart wanted to please Jensen more than he'd wanted anything for a long time but his body was in open rebellion.

"Yeah, you want that," Jensen said, his words starting to slur as he got closer to the goal Jared was being denied. "You want to hear how good you are, and I'm gonna tell you over and over because you are. You're good and you're beautiful...." Jensen broke off. Dimly, Jared remembered that Jensen self-censored.

"Tell me," he said to Jensen. "Please tell me."

"Fuck!" Jensen exclaimed. "God, Jared, just...close your eyes. Now!"

Jared didn't want to close his eyes, didn't want to miss seeing the pleasure and vulnerability wash over Jensen's face, but he wanted to obey Jensen above everything, so he closed his eyes and got a different kind of reward.

"Beautiful Jared," Jensen groaned. "My beautiful Jared."

Oh, God, there it was, Jensen's claim of possession, the one he was so afraid to admit to and he was letting himself feel it and Jared felt almost...proud of himself, that he could give this to Jensen, let him feel only the pleasure without shame or fear.

"Mine," Jensen growled and Jared felt Jensen come on his face.

Jensen collapsed next to Jared. "Give me...just a minute," Jensen gasped out. "Just...."

"All yours," Jared said, giving Jensen his minute and himself. Jensen groaned. Jared licked his lips, trying to find.... Oh, there it was, salty, musky and earthy, his first taste of Jensen's come.

"Dead," Jensen said. "You just killed me." Jared hoped not. Maybe he wasn't going to get to come again this night, but he did want to have another orgasm with Jensen at some point and he was pretty sure necrophilia was not one of his heretofore hidden kinks.

"Okay," Jensen said. "I think I've got it a little more together now."

Jared wasn't sure. Jensen's voice sounded absolutely wrecked and Jared couldn't help his envy. Jensen was sated and Jared...wasn't. But that was what he'd agreed to.

"Can I open my eyes?" Jared asked.

"Not yet," Jensen said, and that seemed odd to Jared until he heard Jensen fumbling at his nightstand, getting a tissue. He felt Jensen carefully cleaning off his eyelids and eyelashes.

"Okay," Jensen announced when he pulled away the tissue. "Open, sesame."

Jared opened his eyes and looked at Jensen, who was lounging on his side, elbow bent so his hand could prop up his head.

"How are you feeling?" Jensen asked.

"Horny as fuck," Jared said. Jensen laughed.

"You look like a gorgeous wreck of a human being," Jensen said fondly. He used his free hand to trace patterns on Jared's face, rubbing his come into Jared's skin.

"Your gorgeous wreck of a human being," Jared said, hoping like hell he wasn't crossing a line.

Jensen's hand stilled on Jared's cheek. "Too much?" he asked softly, his face creasing a bit with worry.

"No," Jared said. "Just about perfect," he added and felt a spark of joy when Jensen's anxiety evaporated.

"You'd say anything right about now, wouldn't you?" Jensen teased, using his forefinger to scoop up some come "Here, have some of this," he offered, pressing his finger against Jared's lips. Jared opened his mouth, licking at Jensen's finger, getting a better taste of the proof of Jensen's desire for him. He laughed.

"What?" Jensen asked indulgently as he used his ring finger to pull more semen off Jared's cheek.

"Taste my fingers," Jared giggled. Jensen laughed.

"You like it, though?"

"Mmph," Jared agreed as he sucked on Jared's finger. Jensen continued to feed him until, much too soon as far as Jared was concerned, there was nothing left.

"Let me finish cleaning you off," Jensen offered. Jared mumbled something about washcloths and the bathroom and Jensen laughed and said something about how that wasn't what he meant. Before Jared could think about it further, Jensen started licking his face.

"Oh, God," Jared moaned.

"It's okay, Jared," Jensen said against his skin, then continued licking at him.

"It's really not," Jared complained and Jensen paused.

"Really not okay?" he asked softly.

Jared thought about it. He knew that if he asked now, Jensen would let him come. Maybe even help him. But...Jared liked what they were doing. He ached to come, but he liked restraining himself because Jensen had told him to.

"Really okay," he said with resignation, and Jensen rewarded him with a kiss. Jared tried to concentrate on the gentle, undemanding press of Jensen's lips on his, letting him in, desperate to fuck his mouth on Jensen's tongue but knowing that would just make things more difficult for himself.

Jensen kept the kiss tender and sweet, not trying to get Jared any more worked up than he already was.

"That was incredible," Jensen said when he broke their kiss. "You're incredible."

"Incredibly horny," Jared couldn't stop himself from saying.

"No one ever died from blue balls," Jensen said reassuringly.

"You mean Chad Michael Murray lied to me in high school?" Jared demanded to know.

"Okay," Jensen said. "I don't know who or what Chad Michael Murray is, but did someone really pull that on you?"

"Yep," Jared said, welcoming the distraction. "I told him to remember that I'm a sub but I'm also a guy and that I knew for a fact nobody ever died from blue balls, and I also knew that some things are more uncomfortable than passion unspent and I would do those things to him if he didn't drive me home."

Jensen giggled. "'Passion unspent?' What did he do?"

"Said, 'you're all right, Padalecki,' and drove me home and then on Monday, he tried to get me on the wrestling team."

"What?"

"It was the closest thing to martial arts we had at my school and Chad had decided I was a badass. Unfortunately, my school didn't allow cross-dynamic contact sports and there was no sub wrestling team."

"Their loss."

"That's exactly what Coach Pileggi said. Repeatedly throughout each season until I graduated."

"Hmmm," Jensen said. Jared shifted a little. "You okay, there?"

"Calming down a little," Jared said. It was true. He still felt the ache in his balls, but the desperation had worn off.

"Okay," Jensen said. "I'm kind of ready to nap out now. You?"

"Not quite that calm, but you go right ahead."

Jensen pulled the blanket and sheet up to cover them both, solicitously retrieving the pillow, sliding it neatly under Jared's head before snuggling in next to Jared. Before long, he'd fallen asleep, still holding on to Jared.

Jared thought about what had happened. It had been amazing, incredible, maybe even more so because hadn't gotten to come. He'd totally surrendered everything to Jensen and the fullness of his submission to Jensen's will had taken him past physical desire and into some unknown place that excited him more than it frightened him.

Jared tried cut off those thoughts at the root. If he explored them any further, he'd be back to desperation in no time and he could forget getting any sleep at all. Instead, he thought about specifics. The way Jensen had tasted...no, that was not helping. The way he'd kept checking in. Yeah, Jared thought, that was good. That was sexy but not as arousing as thinking about what Jensen had looked like, how he had sounded, his voice getting rougher and less precise as he....

Okay, that wasn't really helping either. There had to be something he could think about, something Jensen had said or done that wasn't particularly sexy but was revealing in some way. He thought not about Jensen's accent. Mostly he sounded generically American, like the world's sexiest newscaster. Except, there, at the end...he'd slurred the letter g, drawn out his words in a way that was incredibly familiar.... "I'll be," Jared muttered. "All this, and he's from Texas, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this alternate universe, researchers and public health officials put a premium on stamping out sexually transmitted disease. Not so in ours, alas.
> 
> The exchange that concludes with "You can't blame me for being amorous" is an abbreviated version of "'S Wonderful" (1927), music by George Gershwin, lyrics by Ira Gershwin. An American songbook standard, it's been covered by everyone and his big sister.
> 
> 'S awful nice  
>  'S paradise  
>  'S what I like to see  
>  You've made my life so glamorous  
>  You can't blame me for feeling amorous....


	13. A Story to Tell

Jared woke up just after nine on Sunday, feeling insanely energized even by his usual exuberant standards. He hadn't had as much trouble falling asleep as he'd thought he would and, to his relief, his dreams hadn't lead to an unsatisfying mess on the sheets. They hadn't been overtly sexual at all, actually; he and Jensen had been flying around having adventures with friendly dragons who showed them exotic lands. The symbolism was definitely there, but it was pleasant background to the vistas they'd been exploring together.

Jensen was snoring away on his back. Jared got out of bed carefully and hit the bathroom. Oral hygiene had been tragically neglected the night before, so he flossed and brushed after carefully washing his face and slapping on some moisturizer. Bodily fluids, worn on the outside, could be so drying to the skin. Jared smiled at the memories.

Jensen was still asleep when Jared finished abluting, so Jared left him a note explaining that he was walking the dogs. He threw on shorts and a T-shirt, slipped on a pair of flip-flops, grabbed his phone and he and Cardy dragged Zucchini out for outdoor fun.

He called Misha first.

"How'd it go?" Misha asked. There were noises in the background which suggested that Misha was feeding chickens.

"Oh, my god, it was incredible," Jared gushed. "He's just...well, not perfect, but as near as I can tell we have the same basic values."

"Anything else?"

"Oh, yeah. A lot else. He's got baggage, Misha, but I think it's like me-level baggage."

"You shared stories, then?"

"Me more than him, but yeah."

"You tell him about your so-called virginity?"

"Yeah, and it was cool. He kind of mocked me. But in a nice way!" Jared made sure to tell Misha. "I don't think he has the same definition of virginity as I do."

"Most people don't," Misha said. "There are so many ways to get sexy with people and you've at least tried a fair number of them. Just because you haven't done a couple of the ones we, as a society, have arbitrarily decided are somehow bigger than anything else...." Misha trailed off. This was well-covered ground between the two of them.

"Anyway, he didn't seem to consider me a virgin and anyway, he wasn't weird about it. I got the impression he might be looking forward to...introducing me to some things, but I don't think he would've cared if I was the most experienced sub in Greater Atlanta. Anyway, he liked it when I taught him how to play better pool, so maybe it kind of works both ways."

"Sounds good," Misha said.

"And he was really sweet about checking in...well, let's just say I think we're sexually compatible."

"I'm glad," Misha said.

"How about you? How's it going with Vicki?"

Misha sighed. "I told her about being a switch."

"Wow. How'd that go?"

"Not great, not terrible. She says she has absolutely no submissive impulses herself but that she likes threesomes so maybe we could work something out."

"Do you think that would work?"

"Not sure. It's worth pursuing, though, and it's good to have that as an option."

"Keep me updated. I gotta go; I know Jensen's free today but he's got a crazy lawyer schedule and I gotta make soup while I've got fresh ingredients."

"Go forth and enjoy the day, my son," Misha intoned before disconnecting.

Jared smiled, then called Ms. Griffin.

"Jared," she said warmly. "I got your mass text on Friday; thanks for letting including me on that. How are you doing?"

"Really well, ma'am," Jared said. "I wanted to follow up personally to thank you for sending Misha over with the evaluation box."

"You're welcome. I hope he told you that I only sent the box over because I was worried you get bored and I wanted you to be able to do something professional if you felt inclined."

"He was clear on that. And it was a good call," Jared said. "I had some fun with it yesterday. And with the DVDs," he added. Not that he'd really watched them, but the pilot had been a good backdrop to...well, all kinds of really interesting things.

"Good, good," she said. "I haven't gotten the official report from Sheppard Associates yet, but I'm happy to hear that things went as well as could be expected as far as you're concerned."

"Ms. Wilson wrote a very nice reconciliation letter. Everyone signed it personally."

"I know; they gave me a copy for your file. They really like you, Jared. We all do."

"Thanks," Jared said, trying not to get too choked up. It wasn't like he didn't know he was good at his job, but getting reassurance never hurt.

"Is there anything else you need?"

"No, ma'am, I'm fine. I'll be back on Wednesday, no problems there."

"Good. Everyone can't wait to spoil you rotten."

"They already have," Jared said. They exchanged a few more pleasantries before disconnecting.

Jared and the dogs returned to the apartment to find Jensen up and making coffee. As soon as Jared walked through the door, Jensen walked up to him and drew him into a hug.

"Nice walk?" Jensen asked, voice muffled slightly as he pressed his face against Jared shoulder. Jared returned the hug, enjoying the physical reconnection.

"Yeah. Nice sleep?"

"The best. You? Not too uncomfortable?"

"Surprisingly, no. And I woke up with excess energy."

"Nice," Jensen muttered. "Me, not so much."

"You okay?" Jared asked, pulling away, resting his hands loosely on Jensen's upper arms, wanting to maintain contact but also wanting to be able to see Jensen's face.

"Basically. Just not a morning person. Coffee will make things better."

"Good." Jared paused awkwardly. "Um, you want to sit down while it finishes brewing?"

Jensen nodded and they settled on the couch.

"You feeling okay about what we did last night?" Jensen asked quietly.

"Yeah. Really good, in fact."

"I was worried I crossed a line or two."

Jared nodded. Jensen had already expressed conflict over his own desires and while it had worked out in the moment, Jared could totally understand Jensen being concerned in the light of day.

"I never wanted to be anyone's possession," Jared said carefully, trying to frame his words in a way that was both true to how he felt but that wouldn't alarm Jensen too much.

Jensen looked anxious. "I don't want to own anyone, despite all that shit I said," he told Jared.

"You told me you sometimes say things during sex that you think are maybe not so all right. And I told you I know the difference between what people say and feel during sex and how they feel the rest of the time."

"Yeah," Jensen said. "It's just...I like dating independent subs and a lot of them, for totally understandable reasons, are absolutely not down for the kinds of things I did and said last night. Or, flipping the coin, see me like that and expect me to be like that all the time. But you don't want that."

"No," Jared agreed. "I was kind of surprised by how I responded to your being so possessive in the bedroom. Pleasantly surprised," he added. He figured Jensen had gotten that message, but he wanted to reinforce it. It sounded like Jensen had been caught in a bind in several relationships.

"Good," Jensen said and Jared got the feeling it was just something Jensen said because he didn't know what else to say.

"I want to be my own man leading my own life," Jared tried to explain. "But for sex, I want to be my partner's. Yours."

"Good," Jensen said again. Jared sighed. He wasn't sure how much of what he was saying was getting through. Fortunately, the coffee was ready and maybe that would help matters. He quickly got a couple of mugs and Jensen sighed appreciatively when Jared handed him one of them.

"I just...this is moving kind of fast," Jensen said. "And I feel like I should put on the brakes, be responsible. But I really don't want to." Jensen took a sip of his coffee. "You're so open, Jared Padalecki, and you're making me feel something I haven't felt in years."

"What's that?" Jared asked.

Jensen looked up from his coffee to meet Jared's eyes. "Optimism," he said simply.

"Oh," Jared said. He certainly hadn't been expecting a declaration of undying love and wouldn't have known what to with that if it had happened. But finding out that he was feeding Jensen's dormant sense of optimism...that was better. It made him feel proud and happy.

"And I'd like to be just as open with you as you're being with me, but...well, it's hard."

"Dom thing?"

"Maybe," Jensen shrugged. "Or maybe it's a me thing. There's so much we haven't talked about."

"True," Jared agreed. They'd talked a lot, but there was only so much they'd managed to cover in the relatively short time they'd actually known each other beyond agreeable nods in the hallway.

"What...how do you want to start?" Jared finally asked. For all that Jensen wanted to talk, he didn't seem to have much in the way of follow-through. Jared didn't know what that meant. Shyness? Domly reticence? He figured he'd better get used to it.

"Why don't you tell me a story?" Jensen suggested.

"What kind of story?" Jared was pretty sure he knew, but he had to draw Jensen out somehow. "The time I won the baking competition? The time Chad helped me ditch a date?"

"Not that kind of story at all, although the first sounds intriguing and I'm guessing the second has great entertainment potential. Something more personal."

"More personal than my secret recipe for cardamom and zucchini bread?"

"Cardamom...oh, so that's how the dogs got their names."

"Sort of. It's more involved than that."

"And it's a lovely tale, I'm sure," Jensen said. "But I'm thinking more about.... Let's see. You told me you've tried playing with your ass but never managed to top yourself. How far did you actually get?"

"Oh, god, that," Jared said. It would be embarrassing, talking about his masturbatory habits with Jensen. Personal. Revealing. And the mere thought was arousing.

"Hey, if you don't want to talk about it...." Jensen offered an out. Like he'd been doing all along.

"No, no, I'll tell. I just...maybe it'll help to set the stage."

"All the background you need," Jensen said pleasantly. "As long as it doesn't go back much before junior high."

"No, I mean that more literally. Help me move my furniture back."

Jensen raised an eyebrow but complied, moving over to pick up the cushions and pillows scattered in front of the wall of windows. Jared took them from him, returning them to their usual homes.

"As I recall, those two wing chairs flanking the TV go by the window," Jensen said. Jared nodded. They'd sat in those chairs, using the matching ottoman as a table, when Jared had plied Jensen with apps and Jensen's own beer.

With minimal fuss, everything ended up back in its rightful place. Jared indicated that Jensen should sit, and he did, turning to look back at Jared, still standing in the main part of the living room, away from the view.

"Okay, I've moved your furniture. Since you already gave me pizza, does this mean that I get a story?"

"Yeah, yeah, the story. Look, why don't you just admire the view and I'll tell you from here?" Jared moved until he was standing just a couple of feet behind Jensen. He was pretty sure that Jensen was just being deferential, would rather have been looking at him while he told his story, any story, because Jensen seems to like looking at Jared. Examining him.

Jared shakes himself free from that thought. Story. Right. Story to tell Jensen. About what he's done, or at least tried to do, with his own ass.

"Okay, so I don't know when I started touching my own ass for fun, but it was definitely before junior high," Jared started. "I mean, obviously I touched my ass a lot, with paper, with washcloths, and so on. At some point, I must've been around eleven or so, I started to notice that sometimes it felt kinda good. Especially in the shower, right after I'd cleaned up. I'd sort of...run my finger around the edge, thinking, 'Oh, hey, that's clean now.' And then it'd be like, 'It feels nice when it's clean'."

Jared paused. Jensen was still looking out the window, not saying anything, although he'd leaned forward, as though Jared were sitting next to him and Jensen wanted him to see that he was paying attention. Jared honestly wasn't sure if Jensen's not looking at him was making this easier or harder.

"So, that's what I did for years, sometimes after I took a shower and I'd be in bed by myself. At some point, I realized that one day, I'd have a dom who'd probably want to touch me there. Penetrate me."

He paused, but Jensen didn't fill his silence, so he continued.

"I think it wasn't until I was fifteen or so that I tried putting a finger in. I liked it. I got some lotion and sank my finger in and touched myself...my cock, I mean, and that was it, I went off almost immediately. If I ever had trouble getting there, I'd do that, slip in a finger and I'd be gone. And I hadn't even found my prostate yet, although I knew it was in there somewhere."

Jared thought about what to say next. How much did he need to tell Jensen about all the times he'd fingered himself? The routines he'd settled into? Routines he never really pushed further, because they worked, they made him feel so good.

"I went through that period you go through, when I was struggling with being a sub. You know, learning the history, seeing how people treated me once it was obvious what I was. I never hated being a sub, but it was, is, hard not to be resentful about the inequality you get in life just because of what you like to do in private.

"And I realized that I felt most submissive when I had my own finger in me. I couldn't stop myself from imagining that it was someone else's finger. But I didn't know whose. I didn't even know if it was a man or a woman. And then I'd start thinking of things I'd learned in history class, things that appalled me...except when I had a hard-on and my own finger up my ass.

"You know how subs used to have to approach doms. All those formal, elaborate, degrading customs. Vile, to my thinking then and now. Except...I'd be horny and fingering myself and imagine that I was doing that to show my submission to a specific dom, someone I'd chosen to submit to.

"It was really confusing and it was around the same time I started dating. My mom would set me up with these doms who were not anyone I'd ever want to submit to; I barely wanted to spend time with them. I was starting to think maybe there'd be a way for me to go to college after all, have a career. And so I suppressed all of that. Kept my hands off my ass because I couldn't afford to let myself feel that submissive, even in fantasy."

Jared folded his arms across his chest without realizing what he was doing. "I got through college. Got the job, bought this place. And started thinking about my fantasies and what I wanted from doms. From sex. And I decided that I'd proved that, when it came to it, I'd proven my worth. I'm just as good as any dom in the workplace. By then I was twenty-four and I was building equity in a decent piece of property. So I started thinking about all the things I hadn't let myself think about before. Fantasies that maybe wouldn't be so dangerous and distracting."

Jensen was still leaning forward in his chair and, even not being able to see him fully, Jared knew he had the dom's complete attention.

"So I got some toys. Beads. Plugs. Dildos. I set aside a weekend. Took the dogs out on a Saturday morning, brought 'em back in, prepped myself and put in a plug. A pretty big one. The plan was to keep it in all weekend and just...enjoy the feeling."

Jensen made a small noise at that and Jared noticed that his hands were clenching at the arms of his chair.

"How long did you last?" Jensen asked, his voice low, strained. Like he didn't want to interrupt Jared but had to know.

"Not long," Jared confessed. "I was going to do some baking, but I was too distracted. I managed to load the washer and do the vacuuming...barely. All I could think about was the plug inside me, how full and good it felt. How hard I was. So I came over here," Jared moved to the chair next to Jensen's. "I figured I could at least watch the view, you know?"

Jared sat down, carefully looking at the view, not Jensen.

"Only...it didn't feel right, sitting in a chair like that. So I knelt on the floor next to the chair." Jared recreated his position, kneeling next to Jensen's chair, still not looking at the dom.

"That felt better. Just kneeling on the floor, hard and leaking. Eventually, my knees got tired, so I shifted to my side." Again, Jared followed his own words, shifting over to put some weight on his left leg, leaning the side of his torso against the chair. "I rested my head on the arm of the chair."

Jensen got what he was doing and moved his own hand off the chair's arm, sliding slightly to the left to give Jared space. Jared rested his cheek on the chair, the arm still warm from where Jensen had been using it.

"It felt wonderful for a minute or two, but then I felt so sad. Because there was no one in the chair. The plug was there because I'd chosen to put it there, and that part was good, but there was no one to care that I had done that. I wasn't doing it for anyone else and doing it just for myself wasn't enough. Without someone to share it with.... Well, it barely meant anything. Next to nothing at all. The fact that, physically, it felt good just wasn't enough.

"I got up, took the plug out, washed it off and put it away. I haven't taken it out since."

Jared stopped talking and silence stretched between them before Jensen finally broke it.

"May I touch you?" Jared looked up. Jensen was still staring out the window, but Jared got the feeling he wasn't really looking at the view. He looked lost in his thoughts, and they weren't necessarily happy thoughts, Jared thought.

"Yes. Please," Jared said, but he wasn't begging to signal submission. He wanted Jensen to touch him, to want to touch him.

Slowly, Jensen lowered his hand to Jared's head and began stroking his hair. It felt wonderful, draining the tension that Jared had felt building during his long speech.

"That must have been the loneliest feeling," Jensen said quietly. Jared nodded under Jensen's hand. "No wonder you put it away. No wonder you haven't looked at it since."

"I...can't. Well, couldn't."

And then, finally, Jensen was looking directly down into Jared's face, his expression mirroring the loneliness and sorrow Jared had been speaking of.

"Couldn't?"

"I could. See myself getting it out again. Getting ready for it. Putting it in. So I could sit right here, at your feet, wearing it and knowing that it was for you. For me. For us both."

"Come here, Jared Padalecki," Jensen said, pulling Jared to his feet and then settling him in his lap. It should've been awkward, two large men sharing a single chair, but it wasn't. Jensen knew how to hold someone on his lap. How to hold Jared on his lap.

Knew how to soothe him, holding him close, stroking his back.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Jensen asked. "Good to have someone to talk to, someone to share these things with."

"All these things," Jared averred.

"Thank you," Jensen said. "For telling me what it's been like for you, for suggesting that this is something you're thinking of sharing with me. You honor me, Jared."

They sat there, Jensen holding Jared, for a long time. And Jared didn't argue with Jensen, even though he felt like the one who was truly being honored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found several recipes for zucchini cardamom bread online. I tried one, which reminded me of why I don't bake anymore (wrong temperament and cleanup is a pain in ass) and turned out kind of terrible. I blame the specific recipe more than the general concept of seasoning zucchini with cardamom. Jared's, though, was fucking awesome and he won that baking competition fair and square.


	14. Another Story Told

"You showed me yours," Jensen said. After spending a long time cuddling on the chair, they'd finally acknowledged the discomforts of reality and decided to stretch by taking the dogs out. Now they were sitting on the grass, Zucchini sitting slightly off to the side visiting with an elderly dog while Cardy and some of his neighborhood friends were being chased by a couple of kids from the building. Parents were in sight, so Jared felt like he could direct most of his attention toward Jared.

"I sure did," Jared agreed. He felt the same way he had after he'd told Jensen about the panic he'd felt at the rope workshop and the shame he'd gotten on Facebook afterward. Lighter, freer. Happier.

"I'd like to tell you my own story," Jensen said.

"I'd like to hear it," Jared encouraged.

"One of them, anyway. It's not my only story, any more than what you told me is your only story."

Jared waited.

"I was twenty-two, going out with this sub, a girl, and she wanted to put her fingers in my ass."

Okay, so this really was tit for tat.

"I'd never really thought about having anything in my ass before. I'm not sure how many doms do, although I'm guessing it's a lot more than society realizes."

"So you let her?"

"Not without reluctance. It was a new idea to me. She started off slow, saying that it would make getting a blowjob that much better. She was kind of sneaky, though, because she really wanted to get in my ass in general, and not just as part of oral sex."

Jared wasn't sure what to say about that. Jensen had said he didn't like being manipulated into punishing subs, but he was smiling slightly at the memory he was sharing, so maybe this particular sub's manipulation hadn't been so bad. More like a sexual version Jared sweet-talking people into eating their vegetables.

"I really liked her. I cared about her, even though neither of us entertained any ideas that it was going to be a long-term romance. But there was trust there and after thinking about it a lot, I let her do it."

"Was it...." Jared wasn't sure how to express what he most wanted to know about what Jensen had done with this long-ago sub. "Was she nice?" he finally asked.

"Yeah, in general and about that. She was really careful, used gloves and lots of lube. She warned me ahead of time, it wasn't like she was blowing me and suddenly there's this finger in my ass.

"And for me, it was incredible, like I guess it was for you. Except...." Jensen broke off.

"Not everyone has the same experience with the same things," Jared pointed out.

"She had good instincts, or a lot of experience, or both. Long fingers, too. She hit my sweet spot almost right away and I forgot everything except that feeling. It's incredible, Jared. Just amazing. I forgot I had a part of someone else's body in mine. All I could feel was like...I dunno. Lightning, I guess, coming right from the core of me."

"Wow," Jared breathed out involuntarily.

"And I get that being penetrated makes you feel so submissive and that you want to find the right partner to take care of you and honor that submission, but I gotta tell you, it made me feel like a god. Like I have this superpower inside me, just waiting to be let out. Later, she managed to use a dildo on me while I was inside her and I fucked her harder than I'd ever fucked anyone before. It brought out this part of me, this dominant, primal...beast."

Jared just stared at Jensen. Jensen's words were quiet and contemplative, completely at odds with the wild picture he was painting.

"I wanted to fuck her until she couldn't move. I said things that were....regrettable. I felt horrible afterward and she broke up with me a week later. She said that I hadn't crossed any lines of consent or abuse, she wanted to make sure I understood that, but the whole thing was getting way too intense for her."

"Oh, god," Jared said. "I didn't...you know, trigger you or anything, did I?"

"Not at all," Jensen said, smiling at Jared. "I wasn't thinking about my own shit while you were talking, just thinking about you and how hard it must've been, denying yourself something that you found pleasurable because it didn't fit in with what you wanted from the rest of your life. And how, once you were ready to explore, it ended up being lonely. Because you had all this submission to give and no one to give it to."

"And you...the same physical act made you feel so incredibly dominant and you were afraid of it."

"Two sides of the same coin, I guess," Jensen said. "But I wasn't thinking of that until now."

"But now that you are, now that you've told me...do you think maybe this is something we can do together? Explore the stuff that scares us?"

"I don't know," Jensen said. "It's like...this is so new and it's working out so well, but how long? How long before I screw it up?" Jensen paused, then added softly, "before I screw you up?"

"I don't know either," Jared said. "But on our first date, you came on my face, told me that I was yours and didn't let me come. Did I complain?"

Jensen smiled, as if in spite of himself. "Well, yeah, actually, you did. Just a bit."

Jared waved his hand dismissively. "That was about specifics. And if I'd told you it really was a problem?"

"I'd've been on my knees so fast...." Jensen broke off. "Actually, no, that would've been my first thought, but you've made it clear that getting oral sex from me is something that, if it's going to happen, will be something we work up to. But I definitely would've done something for you. Something very nice indeed."

Jared swallowed. "I sort of guessed that at least you would have let me come. It's a good thing I didn't know there might be more involved in getting relief, because I probably would've surrendered to temptation."

"You could deal with not coming, but you never would've survived not having your curiosity satisfied," Jensen teased.

"Something like that. No...exactly that." Jensen laughed.

They watched the dogs for a time. Suddenly, Jared felt Jensen taking firm hold of his wrist.

"This is the thing, Jared," Jensen said, voice low and rough and sounding like it was saturated with sex, even in a dog park on a Sunday afternoon. "The most basic thing about having sex with me: I'm never not dominant. I don't care if your dick is in my mouth or your cock is up my ass. I am always going to be in charge and you will always be submissive to me."

Jared shivered, his cock getting impossibly hard incredibly fast. "And I can't not be submissive."

Jensen suddenly released Jared's wrist. "Then that's how it's gonna be. For sex, and sex only, I want to be your dom and I want you to be my sub and if you have any specific problems with anything I'm doing to you, you use your words or your gestures and we'll work it out. But in general, what I say goes. And if that's a general problem, it's time to stop."

"It's not time to stop," Jared immediately told Jensen, and he was pretty sure it wasn't just his dick talking. "Unless you pull that shit outside of sex."

"You call me on it if I do. Wanna seal the deal? Right here, right now?"

Jared looked around. Full-on intercourse in public had gone out of fashion, but there were several couples making out, and a blonde was sitting at a picnic bench giving a very contented looking, jeans-clad blonde an over-the-knee spanking.

Jared rolled on his back, placing his arms at his sides, hands palm-up, lips parted. Jensen leaned over him, his face serious as he moved his mouth, generating saliva. Jared waited, his hips bucking helplessly into the air almost of their own volition.

Jensen noticed and growled, "Do not come. You are not going to embarrass me by coming in your pants in public." Jared nodded and drew on the willpower that had served him so well the previous night.

Jensen leaned forward until his mouth was about a foot above Jared's. "Open," he ordered, even though Jared's mouth was already open. "Open for your dom." Jared parted his lips further and Jensen spat into his mouth.

"Swallow," Jensen ordered and Jared complied. "Good boy," Jensen praised him. "My good boy."

Jensen laid back down next to Jared. The earth spun a little faster for Jared, making him dizzy. He'd been claimed, in front of strangers, and now he was obligated to be Jensen's and Jensen's only. He was satisfied and aroused and scared, all at once.

He felt Jensen's hand take his, gently, thumb sweeping tenderly over his knuckles. A similar kind of declaration; there was no dramatic gesture Jared could make that would convey the same meaning to a dom as Jensen's had to Jared, but this was as close as they could get short of a full mutual pledge, which was far beyond where they were in their relationship.

Not a pledge, but a promise. A promise they now shared and which Jensen confirmed with a simple whisper, low but still audible.

"Yours, Jared Padalecki. We're each other's now. "

"And nobody else's, Jensen Ackles," Jared added. It was bold, maybe inappropriate, but that was who he was and what he wanted.

"Nobody else's," Jensen confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank the readers, kudos-leavers and commenters who've followed this story all the way. I also can't emphasize enough that this is not the last you'll be seeing of these particular characters in this particular 'verse. That's gonna happen regardless. And, frankly, it'll probably happen even faster if I get prompted; that is a bribe, not a threat. If you do feel moved to leave a prompt, I can't guarantee the degree to which I'll be able to fill it, but I will at the very least answer the prompting comment itself in some way even if it's only to say, "Hey, sorry, I can't really write that; maybe I can write about this other, similar thing instead?"

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completed story, but there's a catchall series [Dom down the Hall Prompts, Timestamps &tc](http://archiveofourown.org/series/760311) in which interested readers can find additional works set in this 'verse.


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